The Mask I Wear
by Samwysesr
Summary: When an unexpected invitation to Court takes Viktoria Belikova completely by surprise, she is determined to have the time of her life and make it a memorable event. What she doesn't plan on is meeting a certain green eyed Moroi who is trying to get over a broken heart—one who will change her life forever. {Later chapters rated M} {This is NOT a Sydrian friendly story.}
1. Chapter 1: A Dream Come True

**A/N:** _If you are a die hard Sydrian fan, you probably __**DO NOT **__want to read this story—because I promise that as the story progresses, the later chapters will piss you off. I have never shipped that particular pairing, though I was starting to warm to the idea at the end of The Golden Lily. Unfortunately the two following books destroyed that, icing my heart over and making me retreat to the pairing I had been hoping for before Sydney took over as narrator. This entire story is based around one of the stories in my Vampire Academy:Drabbles collection, so if you want a hint about how it will progress, go check out Chapter Twelve: Adrian's Luck which is about Adrian Ivashkov meeting a certain beautiful young Russian. Oh and one more thing… it will tie in to the 'Letting go' story that Rose told in which Lissa finally lost her mind. Time frame is after the short story Homecoming and before Bloodlines.  
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_Happy reading, and feedback is always appreciated._

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_Dear Diary,_

_Mama called today with the most exciting news! We're going to Court!_

_I couldn't believe it at first, knowing that a trip of that magnitude was beyond our means entirely—it wasn't like taking the train to Novosibirsk to take Paul and Zoya to the zoo or even going to visit the capital. It would involve taking a plane all the way to America, not to mention paying for our lodgings and meals once we were there. She reassured me immediately, telling me the entire trip was being taken care of—so of course I immediately assumed Dimka was trying to treat us and flat out refused. My brother is well paid for a Guardian, but it still isn't a lot, and he and Roza need to be saving for the day when they purchase a home of their own. No matter how much I might want to visit the States, my brother's happiness is more important, especially after everything he's been through._

_Mama's soft laughter at my outburst confused me, but she quickly explained that our generous benefactor was none other than Zmey—and not only had he offered to pay for our entire trip, he'd also invited us to attend a party in the Queen's honor during our stay! The idea of being presented to the Queen of the Moroi is somehow exciting and frightening all at once; I have no idea how I should act or what I should say to someone so highly ranked, but Mama assures me that as long as I am polite and courteous, everything will be okay—though she said she will find out from Roza whether we should bow the way the Guardians do or whether we should courtesy when we meet her. That leaves me with only one problem to eat away at my mind—since the occasion will obviously be a formal one, what in the devil's name am I going to I wear?_

When we ended the call, I ran to the building that held the staff offices, politely knocking on Guardian Zykov's door and waiting for his invitation instead of just barging in the way I usually do. I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, wondering what was taking him so long, because I knew that he was in—he had to be. Every novice at Saint Basil's was aware of the fact that the moment classes for the day were done, Fyodor Zykov retired to his office so he could toast his fallen allies with a glass of Russky Lyod at precisely 7:00 every evening. We were all also aware of the fact that wherever it was he hid his vodka away during the day, it was completely impossible to find—and believe me, we've all tried, time and time again.

"Vhodit'!"

As soon as I heard the word enter, I jerked into action, hurrying into the office and conveying my news, talking so fast that I don't think he understood a single word of what I was saying. He just sat there staring at me with a rather amused smile on his face, one eyebrow arched, waiting until I paused to catch my breath.

"Viktoria… I think you must have received some exciting news yes? But I am sorry to say that unlike teenage girls, I do not have the ability to translate rapid mumbles into proper conversation. Sit." He nodded his head towards one of the two straight backed chairs facing his desk, reaching for his bottle and pouring out a tiny dollop of vodka into another glass. "Guardian Mashir was supposed to be joining me, but something has apparently delayed him—so perhaps you would like to join me in my toast this evening? We shall drink to your brother. A fine man. I was quite disappointed that I was not allowed to mentor him during his stay here."

I reached over, picking up the glass, unable to stop myself from making a face at the miniscule amount he'd doled out. "Surely my brother deserves a bit more honor than this, sir? After all, he has been to hell and back and lived to tell the tale."

"Ah, this is quite true. Perhaps half a glass then, but no more." He leaned over to top off my glass, smiling at me fondly; out of all the Guardians on campus, he was one of the few who was amused by my antics rather than angered by the things I did. I suspect it was because of his long standing crush on my mother—they'd been classmates a very long time ago—but whatever the reason, I didn't question it. I was just thankful that the Head Guardian on campus had taken a liking to me, which meant that he tended to go easy on me whenever I was sent to him for punishment on some minor infraction—like dozing off in class. "He is indeed a very brave soul—to Dimitri!"

I held my glass up, nodding my head once to show I agreed with the toast, then downed the liquid, marveling at the smooth burn it made as it slid down my throat. After tasting it, I was more determined than ever to ferret out the hidden location of his secret stash—it was the best vodka I'd ever had the pleasure of drinking. "That… is quite excellent. Thank you."

"That it is—and perhaps it will calm you down enough so that you will speak slowly enough for me to process what it is that has you smiling so brightly." He collected the used glasses, moving into the small restroom attached to his office and rinsing them in the sink.

It didn't escape my notice that he'd grabbed his bottle on the way; leaning back in my chair I stretched my neck so I could peek around the door, catching him just as he slid one of the ceiling tiles back in place, the bottle nowhere in sight. I stored that piece of information away in the back of my mind, knowing I would put it to good use when I returned from my vacation.

"My family has been invited to Court—to attend a party for the Queen." I forced myself to speak more slowly this time, trusting he would understand the significance of my statement. For dhampirs to be invited guests to such an even was completely unheard of—an honor never before extended to the best of my knowledge. "Dimka's girlfriend is her guardian, you know."

"I do believe you've mentioned that in passing a few dozen times." He tugged at my ponytail as he passed, settling himself back behind the large, battered wood desk that dominated the room. "I can understand why you are so excited, is your whole family going to be going?"

"Mama said she isn't sure if Karolina and Sonya will be allowed the time off from work, but they were invited too, as well as the little ones. But I think probably it will just be Mama and Yeva and me that go, since she also claimed that the children are too small to behave themselves properly." As horrible as it was, I couldn't help but hope that my sisters would remain at home; it would mean that I could monopolize all my brothers free time without having to compete with my sisters for his attention.

"When would you be leaving?"

"We leave for Court in a week, but Mama said I should come home tomorrow in order to have time to properly prepare." I shot him a pleading look, knowing that without his approval, I wouldn't be going anywhere. "We have to find clothes for the trip, and shoes, and—"

He laughed, holding up his hands to cut off my rambling list. "And a million and one other things that you women have to do to make yourselves presentable. I know. That shouldn't be a problem… how long will you be gone? A week, maybe two?"

I bit my lip, fidgeting in my seat. This would be the tricky part. Mama had said we could extend our stay for up to a month if I could convince Zykov to allow it, but with only five months of school left, getting him to agree might take some doing. "A month—and I know that's a long time when there isn't much school left but I will keep up with my academics, I swear! I can get my assignments from my teacher's tomorrow morning before I catch the train."

"Viktoria—slow down. And what about your training? That's not quite so easy to keep up with and it pains me to remind you that you're already behind in those classes and your trials will be here before you know it. If you'd only put out a bit of effort you could easily surpass your peers—"

I groaned, not wanting to rehash this lecture for the millionth time. At least once a week he gave me a pep talk, hoping to inspire me to try harder in class. "I swear to you that if you let me go I will try harder when I get back. And while I'm gone I can train with Dimka and Roza—that should count for something, shouldn't it? Training with the Queens Guardian and the man who taught her everything she knows?"

Zykov steepled his fingers under his chin, studying me for a moment. His blue eyes were shrewd and assessing, making me feel uneasy for the first time since I'd sat down. Everything hinged on his decision—and judging by his face, he was leaning towards telling me no. "I'm disappointed in you Vika. You forgot one more very compelling argument that is definitely in your favor—he's the only man alive who can give you first-hand knowledge of how a Strigoi thinks."

I winced, gritting my teeth. "I would _never_ use what happened to my brother to further my own desires! It is an insult for you to suggest it sir!"

"Unruffle your feathers, little bird—it may upset you, but that one thing, horrible as it is, is what has convinced me to agree to allow you a month off from this Academy." He held up his hand to silence me before I could speak. "Don't thank me yet, Viktoria—I _will_ be calling your brother to advise him that in order for you to graduate with your peers he will have to serve as your instructor while you are at court, and I _will _be forwarding him your records so he sees what you have to work on. You aren't going to be able to slack off just because he's your brother, and if he cannot devote the time to working with you then you'll have to cut your vacation down to just two weeks. I know Dimitri wouldn't lie to cover for you—he's an honorable man." His lips curled up in an impish grin as he winked. "However, to prove I am not an ogre—I will tell him that I agreed to allow you two weeks of free time, so at least half of your vacation will be dedicated to fun. He can structure the training time in whatever manner he sees fit—whether it be breaking up the training over the course of your trip or cramming it all into two weeks of hard work."

"Thank you sir! I promise I won't slack off—not that that Dimka would allow it. He'd be the first to confine me to my room for punishment, and I definitely don't want that!" My excitement returned full force, making me bounce in my chair. "Oh Mama is going to be so pleased—she was worried you wouldn't allow me a month off."

"Don't worry about getting your assignments together—I'll do it for you and send them to your brother when I send your file." Zykov stood up, holding out to shake my hand, but I was so grateful that would never do. Hopping up out of my chair I hurried around his desk, surprising him by giving him a quick hug that brought a smile to his face. "Now don't you dare tell the other Novices about this Vika—it wouldn't do to have them thinking I was getting soft in my old age. What is it they call me? A tyrant… and I quite like having them believe that of me." He released me, reaching down to brush his fingertips across my cheek for a moment before jerking his head towards the door. "Go on—off with you. I'm sure Olena is pacing, waiting to find out if you've managed to wrap me around your little finger the same way she always did when she was your age. She was never the most patient person when it came to exciting news, so you best hurry."

"She's very patient now—at least… for the most part." I paused in the doorway, looking back at him, unable to stop myself from giving him something in return for the part he played in making my dream of going to Court a reality. "Guardian Zykov…I shouldn't be saying this, but many times I've heard my Mama say that the biggest mistake she ever made was choosing my father over you… and I happen to agree with her. Perhaps you should think about that and act accordingly the next time she comes to visit me."

Without waiting for a response I hurried off, eager to pack and call home, but before I turned away I caught the blush that raced across his cheeks, turning his face almost the exact same shade of red as his hair, and I saw the way his eyes lit up with happiness. His smile was almost as big as the one I was wearing—and it made me realize that maybe… just maybe… today I'd managed to make one of _his_ dreams come true as well, and one of Mama's too.


	2. Chapter 2: Welcome to Court

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written in you in a while, but there was so much to do in preparation for our trip that there was barely time for me to catch my breath, let alone steal a few minutes to jot my thoughts down. And I must confess that with the excitement of arriving in court, updating you totally slipped my mind—but I promise to make up for my lapse right now as I have quite a lot to tell you._

_I was quite amazed to discover that the Royal Moroi Court is nothing like what I'd anticipated. For years I've imagined a fancy palace, sitting secluded high up in the mountains, hidden away from prying human eyes, but in actuality, there is so, so much more to it than that. It is secluded, surrounded by hundreds of acres of untouched forest, but in essence it is like a small, self-sustaining town made up of Moroi and dhampirs. There are all kinds of shops and restaurants and businesses, some of which carry things I've never seen outside of the pages of magazines—and even a private airstrip for the convenience of the Royals. That was the very first thing I saw—we flew in on a private jet that Abe sent to collect us, and I am not lying when I tell you it was more luxurious than anything I'd ever seen, with comfortable leather seats and even a small bedroom at the rear of the plane. _

_Abe met us on the tarmac, greeting us exuberantly and even going so far as to bow to Mama and Yeva, kissing their hands like one of the gentlemen in those old fashioned movies that Yeva loves so much. Thank God he didn't do the same to me—though he did wink at me and whistle, saying that Dimitri was going to have his hands full keeping the boys away from his gorgeous little sister. When I tried to collect our luggage he stopped me, saying that we were his guest which meant we simply were not allowed to do a single thing that might be considered work—which made Mama giggle like a school girl and grandmother roll her eyes up to the heavens. His guardians loaded up the trunk of his car—which might I say was just as fancy as his plane—and from there escorted us to where we'd be living while we were at Court so we could relax and get adjusted to the difference in time. I protested, of course; I wanted to go exploring not be sent to my room to nap, but Abe smirked and said that jet lag was a funny thing, sneaking up on you when you least expected it—especially for little girls who'd never flown before. I smiled sweetly and bit my tongue, holding in all the things I wanted to say—he is our host, so I must show him the respect he deserves. _

_I was quite glad that I'd controlled my temper when we pulled up in front of an enormous, sprawling building about ten minutes later; I'd thought we'd probably be staying in one of the building that housed the guardians, perhaps somewhere close to the apartment that Dimka and Roza share, but as it turned out we 'd been given suites in a wing that was normally only used by visiting Royals. Mama immediately protested, saying it was too much, but Abe smoothly told her that the Queen herself had made the arrangements, and that since she considered Dimitri family—that meant we were family too. It was an honor that shocked even Yeva into stunned silence and it brought tears to Mama's eyes;_ _we'd all known Dimka was well thought of at Court, but to hear that the Queen held him in such high regard was honestly the proudest moment of my life. _

I was completely shocked whenhe led us to our rooms. That's right… rooms. I am pleased to announce that I have a suite of rooms all to myself, three whole floors away from Mama and Yeva's. Mama balked at first, but once Abe reminded her that the Queen specified where she wanted us, there was really no way she could politely argue about me being too young to be on my own— I swear sometimes I get so frustrated; she acts as if I'm Paul's age and not just a few days away from my eighteenth birthday. Anyway, we left Mama and Yeva at their adjoining suites then Abe led me back downstairs, leaving me at the door to my own lodgings with a wink, advising me that Roza would be along shortly to show me around. I watched him walk away, wondering if I should ask him about my luggage, but by the time I'd made up my mind he'd disappeared from view. I shouldn't have worried—once I entered the apartment I found my two small bags sitting just inside the door, but I didn't move to unpack them, too eager to explore what would be my home for the next month.

I gazed around the room in complete awe, shocked at how spacious it was; there was a small kitchen off to the side of the large main living area, with two doors leading off into what I assumed were the bedroom and the bath. I wandered around, examining everything, even opening up the refrigerator—which was fully stocked with food—before venturing into the bedroom, and I swear to you that room on its own is three times the size of my room back in Baia. In addition to the small bath off of the central room, there was a much larger, more opulent one attached to the bedroom and I honestly couldn't wait to put it to good use—the tub was so big that I would be able to soak in bubbles right up to my chin if I wanted to, nothing at all like the small, cramped tub that I had to try and squeeze into at home. I was actually contemplating doing just that when a knock at the door alerted me that I had my first visitor. I hurried back through the apartment, assuming it was Roza, throwing open the door and blasting her before she could say a word. "Too good to meet us at the plane huh? Should I be insulted that you—oh… uh… hello. I'm sorry… I was expecting… someone else."

To my embarrassment, it wasn't Roza. It was a girl close to my age—perhaps a little older, with pale colored hair pulled back in a long braid that fell halfway down her back and an amused smile on her lovely face. She was dressed much like I was, in a t-shirt and jeans, though hers were much nicer and more expensive looking than my own.

"I wouldn't worry too much, I'm sure she'll be along any minute now. I waited for her to go to the bathroom and then I made a break for it. May I come in?"

"Oh… yes. Please. How rude of me." Still confused as to why she was knocking on my door, I stepped back so she could enter, though I made point to hold the door partially open—after all, she was a stranger. "I think perhaps you must have the wrong room. I've only just arrived and I—"

She laughed softly, cutting me off mid-sentence as she looked around the room. "Oh I know—I've been dying to meet you. I just didn't want anyone trying to make a big production out of it. Do you like your apartment? I hope you don't mind being alone, but I have a feeling your Mother and Dimitri might be a little over protective since it's your first trip to Court. I thought you might need some space to yourself so you could come and go as you pleased." Her eyes fell on my luggage, her smile widening so much that I caught the briefest flash of her fangs as she headed for the bags. "You haven't unpacked yet! Good—I can help. That way I can see what you brought and—gosh, you didn't bring very much did you? That's okay, we can go shopping as soon as you get settled in and—"

Maybe it was just the jet lag that Abe warned me would probably hit—or maybe it was just that I felt like an idiot, standing there holding open the door just in case she tried to attack me, but her presumptuousness snapped my patience. "Look—that's very nice of you to offer, and I don't mean to be rude but I have no idea who you are or why—"

"You really don't know who I am?" She looked complexly delighted by my ignorance. "God you have no idea how wonderful that is. I get so tired of people kissing up to me just because I'm—"

At that moment the half open door slammed into my side, the force of the blow hurling me off my feet; I hit the carpet face first, my breath completely knocked out of me, and it took me a second to process what—or should I say _who_—it was that had hit me.

"God damn it Lissa! You can't just fucking take off like that! I was about to sound the alarm when Abe called to tell me where you were." A pair of angry dark eyes flicked from my strange visitor to me, narrowing quizzically as they took in my sprawled out position. "Vika… what in the hell are you doing on the floor?"

"When you came tearing in here like a express train you knocked me over. I'm probably going to be black and blue tomorrow—thanks a lot." I glared up at her, about to say more when my brain finally caught up with what she'd said; glancing over at the blonde Moroi—who was trying not to giggle—I realized who exactly it was I'd been entertaining. "Oh my God! You're… Roza—is that.. She's… I thought you were just…."

"Where exactly did the door hit you—in the head?" Roza shut and locked the door before reaching down to help me to my feet. Turning to glare at her best friend—who had lost any control she'd had over her amusement the moment I'd started rambling—she crossed her arms over her chest, preparing to light into her—but Vasilisa Dragomir beat her to it.

Wiping her eyes as she tried to stop giggling, the young queen collapsed on the couch, letting out a deep sigh. "That's why I didn't wait for you—I wanted to meet Dimitri's sister as Lissa and not as the queen."

"That doesn't make a damned bit of sense Liss—you're always the queen." Roza moved over to sit beside her, propping her feet up on the coffee table. "I'm still wicked pissed. Just for the record."

"I'm not stupid Rose—Sergey and Erik are stationed at either end of the hall. You probably ran straight past them before you tried to give poor Viktoria a concussion." She glanced over at me, her pale brow creasing. "Please… sit down. Don't start acting any differently than you were before you knew who I was, alright? I may be a queen but that doesn't mean we can't be friends—I've been looking forward to meeting Dimitri's family ever since Rose got back from Russia. Especially you, Vika." She ducked her head down, the palest hint of embarrassment creeping across the tops of her cheeks. "If I can call you that?"

I stared at her a moment, unsure what to do, my eyes darting over to Roza for guidance. She barely moved her head, but it was all the indication I needed ; a moment later I moved forward, holding out my hand to the blonde Moroi, telling myself that if she wanted me to pretend she wasn't a queen then surely I could at least try to do the same thing. "You can call me whatever you like, Your Majesty—as long as you promise to tell Roza to start watching where she is going."

The grateful smile she gave me was proof I'd done the right thing. Her hand slipped into mine, soft and cool, bearing none of the callouses that my own hands had from all the years I'd put into training. "Lissa. Just call me Lissa. And since we've gotten all the introductions out of the way…" she stood up, releasing my hands, already moving towards the door, "now can I unpack your suitcases? Please?"

"No! I mean… I can do it—you don't have to…" I shot a pleading glance at Roza, horrified at the thought of the Queen pawing through my meager belongings. I took a step toward her, intent on stopping her, but I wobbled a little, suddenly feeling slightly dizzy.

"Forget it Vik—just let her do it. If you don't she'll just sit watching you do it and end up taking over anyway. She's a complete control freak."

"I am not! I just want to see what she brought—and you know I'm always looking for a reason to go shopping. She needs souvenirs to take home right?" Lissa called over her shoulder, dragging my suitcases off towards the bedroom. "And she only brought two tiny bags!"

"Souvenirs are usually tacky t-shirts and ball caps Liss. Not designer wardrobes." Roza reached up, grabbing my hands and pulling me down on the couch next to her—for which I was grateful since I was still feeling woozy. "She really does like doing it, so let it go. It keeps her mind occupied and focused—which is a good thing. She's been acting a little vague lately. Drifting off into dazes… taking off the way she did today without saying a word to anyone. It's a side effect of Spirit."

"I cannot let her buy me things Roza," I hissed out in a furious whisper. "Dimka would be very upset by this."

"There are five brand new dusters hanging in our coat closet Vika. He can't stop her either. You're gonna have to get used to it. The only person who can rein her in is Abe, and even then it takes some doing." She shrugged her shoulders, resting her head against the back of the couch. "Speaking of your brother… man are you in for a world of hurt. I hope you weren't planning on him going easy on you—he's been working on your training schedule since that Fido guy called."

"Fyodor—and I knew he would be a tough task master. But he does know I get two weeks free, tight?"

"Mhmmm… but he also got emailed copies of your records, so be prepared for a lecture or two. Or ten. And laps. Lots and lots of laps." She grinned at me, then winked. "Don't worry—I'll distract him from time to time so he doesn't work you to death."

"My marks aren't _that _ bad—and I also have to keep up with my academics so he has to—" I paused as someone knocked at the door. "Another visitor? Already?"

"I'll get it!" The Queen—um… I mean Lissa—sailed by us, smiling broadly.

"Use the peep hole first!" Roza huffed in irritation in response to her best friend sticking out her tongue as she completely ignoring the instructions, simply opening up the door.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry I must have the wrong room. I thought this was where my daughter was staying—"

"Olena?" Roza jumped up off the couch, running over to push past Lissa and wrap her arms around my mother. "Please tell me you brought some of your black bread… or at least that you'll make me some while you're here."

"Roza! And pray tell me who this lovely young lady is and where exactly is my daughter?" She turned to Lissa with a friendly smile on her face, then froze—putting the puzzle together a whole lot faster than I had. "Oh my—you're Vasilisa… the Queen! You're the one who saved my boy! You gave me back my Dimitri!"

My mother didn't hesitate; immediately she threw her arms around the Moroi girl, not caring that they'd only just met or that she was a Queen. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered her thanks over and over, rocking Lissa in her arms and offered up her undying devotion for saving my brothers soul. I wanted to do the same, shocked that I hadn't thought to thank her myself, but when I tried to get up I found that my muscles wouldn't obey me. I felt like I'd been hit by a real truck and not just Roza—my limbs weak and limp, refusing to cooperate. Letting my head fall back against the couch, I sighed, suddenly so tired that I felt slightly ill. I listened to them talk, telling myself I would just close my eyes for a few minutes, but the fatigue was pressing down on me so hard that I felt like I hadn't slept for a week. I hated to admit it, but Abe was right; I needed a quick nap, and whether my mind agreed or not, my body was shutting down. The last thing I remember hearing as I drifted off to sleep was my mother's horrified protests as the Ruler of the Moroi world insisted she wanted to help her unpack and wouldn't take no for an answer—just as soon as she finished doing the chore for me.


	3. Chapter 3: Dream a little Dream

Dear Diary,

_There are few things worse than waking up disoriented—at least in my opinion. Those first few minutes … when I wake up and lay staring up at the ceiling, with my mind still partially asleep as I try to remember where I am—they always leave me feeling confused and somewhat… helpless… as I struggle to push aside the remnants of my dreams. Today was worse than usual; partially because of the jet lag I think, but mainly because I'd experienced one of the strange haunting dreams that hang on to my consciousness, making it hard to separate reality from illusion. _

_For as long as I can remember, I have had odd, disturbing dreams; ones that seem so much more than just fantasies weaved by my sleeping mind. Everything about them is brighter and more vivid … more lifelike than normal dreams—the scents, sounds and voices… everything is… clearer. It's hard to explain, really—the closest I can come would be to suggest comparing a high definition photograph to an image that is fuzzy and somewhat blurred. That's exactly how it is for me when comparing a dream that is brought on by vision to an ordinary sort of dream._

_I never speak of them, not even when sometimes the things I have seen play out before my eyes while I'm awake. The one time I came close to mentioning it my grandmother silenced me with a shake of her head and a knowing, understanding look in her wise, dark eyes. She seemed to sense what it was that had been plaguing me—why I had dark shadows under my eyes and always seemed drained and tired, no matter how much I slept. _

_Her visions leave her drained too, though I don't know if she experiences the same sharp, piercing pain behind her eyes that I get—I've never been able to work up the courage to ask her about it outright. It's the pain that always wakes me, no matter how deeply asleep I might be. It pulls me awake as soon as it starts and makes falling back asleep impossible. After an hour or so it eventually starts to fade—not much, but to a level that doesn't leave me nauseous and dizzy. On the days following such dreams I tend to seclude myself away from everyone; otherwise it would be hard to explain why I'm less talkative than normal, since I can't admit my head is pounding, throbbing with each beat of my heat like it's trapped within a vice._

_The dream last night was one of those dreams—the ones that leave me achy and fuzzy headed, but unlike the majority of the others that happen only once. It's the only one that has ever repeated over and over again. For three years it has happened periodically, always the same, every time I have it; one minute I am feeling lost and alone, standing in a crowded room speaking, yet no one seems to hear me, then the next a voice reaches me and I turn, but it's owner is hidden in the shadows. From time to time I get a glimpse of certain features—like his messy, thick dark hair, or the startling, brilliant color of his eyes—and as soon as I do… I am filled with a sense of… well… peace. It's a calm, warm feeling that reminds me of being curled up in front of the fireplace on a chilly winter day, when the house is filled with the scent of baking bread and the soft sound of Mama moving about in the kitchen. It's a feeling of coming home… of complete, heartbreaking perfection, like I've finally found where I belong—and I never want it to end. I think that's part of the reason I was so positive what I felt for Rolan was love—because something about him reminded me of the mysterious boy in my dreams. It was stupid of me really—that special feeling of peace and contentment was never there, but I wanted it so much that I just focused on the physical attributes they shared—like the dark hair and the beautiful, bright green eyes—until I convinced myself that he was the one._

I hadn't had the dream in quite a while—since before Roza came into our lives—so when I woke this morning and it lingered in my head, it added to my confusion. It took me a few minutes to shove aside the ache of longing that hit me, and even when I glanced around and remembered where I was—I couldn't for the life of me remember leaving the couch for my bed. By the time I was awake enough to actually move, my mood wasn't a good one. My head hurt and I was irritated—with myself for having slept away my first full day at court, but also at my family for not bothering to wake me. I thought that after I'd showered and dressed my sour mood would improve—but it didn't. If anything I was more prickly than before; my mother and Yeva weren't in their rooms and I had no idea where to find them. On top of that, since I'd slept through dinner I was absolutely famished, but my head hurt to much for me to cook and though we'd passed several places to eat on the way in, I didn't have any money. I didn't even know where my brother's apartment might be, so I was pretty much out of luck. Returning to my room I eyed the contents of the refrigerator, grabbing a bag of grapes to tide me over until my family realized they'd forgotten my existence.

I didn't have to wait long; about ten minutes later there was a soft knocking at my door—my brother come to collect me, accompanied by his charge. I studied the Moroi while Dimka introduced us, his amused expression making me wonder if I had something on my face.

"She doesn't seem irritable to me." The Moroi shot a pointed look at Dimitri, moving past me into the apartment.

"Excuse me?" I frowned, glancing at Dimka for clarification.

"I warned him you can be a bit… testy when your sleep is disturbed." He ruffled my hair as he passed, frowning at his charge.

"I am not! If anything I get angry when people _don't_ wake me up—like you all did last night. I hope you had a pleasant dinner without me?"

"I tried to wake you up—three times. You threatened me the last time so I decided it was best to let you be."

"I did not! I wouldn't—"

"You _did_. And in a manner that was very… improper."

I frowned, searching my memory—but came up completely blank. I couldn't imagine what I might have said that would merit such a look of reproach as the one he shot me. "What exactly is it that I supposedly said?"

"You said if I did not stop waking you up… you would remove my…" his cheeks reddened and he dropped his eyes, shaking his head. "You get the picture."

I felt my own cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Dimka! I did not! I don't even want to _think_ about that let alone—"

"You most certainly did—you said if I didn't leave you the hell alone and stop waking you up… you would cut off something that would make Roza a very unhappy woman." He scowled at me, arching a dark brow.

As soon as he said it something clicked inside my head, reminding me of the discussion and him helping me to bed—but he'd totally mistaken my meaning, taking it in the worst way possible. "For God sakes Dimka—I meant your _hair!"_

A burst of laughter sounded from the couch, making us both jerk out heads in the direction of Dimitri's charge. "Sorry, but I have to side with Dimitri on this one—Rose might be pissed if you cut off his hair—but she'd be absolutely _homicidal _if you cut off his—"

"Enough!" Dimka shot the Moroi a warning look. "A misunderstanding then. Still…you were quite harsh with me, yes?"

"Maybe so—but it was probably due to the fact I was tired _and _hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday you know."

He gave me a fond look, smoothing back a strand of my hair. "Ah and you are just wasting away I suppose? Would you like me to take you down to the café? You can probably still get… " His voice trailed off as the Moroi jumped up, heading for the small kitchen. "Christian… No. I will buy her—"

"It's no problem. Better than having to watch her eat the crap they'll still have up for grabs. It's been sitting in grease for hours."

I shot my brother a quizzical look as he sighed and shook his head. "He's more head strong than Ivan was… but he's right. You'll enjoy whatever he prepares much more than you would any of the meager left overs they'll still have for sale after the breakfast rush. Come—maybe you can learn a thing or two to surprise Mama with when you go home." He guided me over to the long counter that ran the length of the kitchen, shrugging off his coat and tossing it over one of the stools, watching his charge with a faint amused smile, as if having a Royal cook for him was an everyday occurrence.

Me? I was taken completely aback—this was as inappropriate as having the Queen unpack my things. "You really don't have to Lord Oze—"

"Christian." He cut me off, pointing a pan at me. "I just broke him of the habit of using that stupid title—don't make me go through it again with you."

"I'm sorry… it won't happen again." I looked over at Dimka, wide eyed at the outburst but he just shrugged.

"Headstrong." Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to whisper. "There is one thing to remember when it comes to getting along with Christian—he's very much like Roza. Treat him the same way you would treat her and you will get along just fine."

"I heard that—and I'm nothing like that she-demon." The Moroi didn't look up from whatever it was he was stirring, though his brow wrinkled with irritation. "Not to mention the fact that if _you_ treated me the way you treat Rose… it would be extremely disturbing."

"He's right Dimka—that's really not a very good comparison." I giggled as a faint blush crossed the top of my brothers tan cheeks.

"You know what I mean… _both_ of you."

"Yeah well if you start looking at me the way you look at Rosie—I'm making a run for it." Christian glanced over at me, raising his eyebrows. "Any food allergies?"

The unexpected question startled me. "Um… no?"

"She's sensitive to dairy."

I gave my brother an exasperated look. "That was when I was a baby—I drink milk all the time now."

"Still, better safe than sorry, yes? Unless you _want_ to risk having an upset stomach and ruining your day?" Smiling fondly, he reached over, stroking my cheek with his fingertips. "I remember how it used to hurt you—it drove me crazy, listening to you cry and being unable to take the pain away."

Christian frowned down at the pan, rolling his eyes. "So is cheese ok? I don't want to make you sick—I have a reputation to uphold here,"

"For… cooking?"

"Some would say he is the most talented chef at court—and they would be right. There's a reason Roza is always raiding his fridge, Vika."

I didn't respond, my eyes drifting back to his charge, wondering exactly how a Royal Moroi developed such a talent. I wouldn't ask of course—that would be rude and would imply I doubted his skills. "From what I saw of Roza when she lived with us… she'll eat just about anything Dimka—though she may glare at it and sniff it a few times first."

His smile faltered, and I instantly regretted mentioning the time he'd been… _away. _ That is what we called it in my family, amongst ourselves, none of us wanting to think about the type of things that might have gone on in his life during that dark, dark period. "Dimka… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Shhh… it's all right. I just wish I had been there, to introduce her and show her around our home. It was something I always dreamed of, back before…never mind. You should eat up—you have a busy day ahead of you." He watched his charge load up a plate for me—and judging by the amount of scrambled eggs the Moroi had prepared, he was obviously accustomed to cooking for a dhampir's appetite.

A groan escaped me and I turned to face him, giving him my best puppy dog look of pleasing; in the past it had always worked like a charm, but I had a feeling that might not be the case when it came to my training. "Dimka! I am supposed to have two weeks to enjoy myself first!"

"Oh he's not talking about training." Christian slid the plate in front of me before turning his attention to the dishes he had used, piling them up in the sink. "It's something a whole lot more draining than that."

"What could be more draining than physical activity?" I took a bite, making a sound of pleasure that earned me a smile. The eggs were delicious, perfectly prepared—I owed him an apology for doubting him.

"Shopping." His smile widened at my look of confusion. "With Lissa."

* * *

**_A/N_**_ Quick question. I already have quite a bit of this written, but my writing style is rather... odd. I write the chapters as they come to me then put it in chronological order. I could actually post much more of this story right now, but it would be with... time skips, so to speak. At the beginning of the chapter I'd notate Vika's age and location so no one would get confused... or I could just keep posting this way and letting the story unfold in the time frame it occurs without skipping around. Which would everyone prefer?_

_I'm just wondering because my friend Sophie read some of the already written 'future' chapters, after Vika returns to Saint Basil's and then later when she has graduated and moved home... and she loved them, so I thought maybe I should go ahead and put them up even though their not in order, so to speak. Let me know what you guys prefer!  
_

_Not proofed or edited because I have a killer headache and didn't want to end up adding another thousand words. ;o)_


	4. Chapter 4: Wisdom Speaks

_Dear Diary,_

_I am sure I looked like quite the tourist when I set out with Dimka and Christian to meet up with the others; there was so much to see and I was anxious to experience everything Court had to offer. I knew my time there would fly by in the blink of an eye—a month seems like a very long time, but in reality, it slips away before you know it. While my brother and his charged walked along unaffected, I was enchanted by everything that was going on around us; even something as simple as a window display being changed was reason enough for me to stop and watch—which made my brother laugh and grab my arm, telling me not to dawdle._

_As we neared the café where everyone was waiting, it was Roza that caught my eye. She has a sort of presence about her that commands attention, no matter who she might be with; sitting next to the pale, beautiful queen, it was the dark haired dhampir that drew the gaze of the people passing by, making her the focal point of the small group gathered around the table. Even in the dim light of the decorative street lamps I could see the look of fondness on my mama's face as she and my grandmother laughed at whatever it was Roza was saying, and when I glanced up at my brother, I could see an eagerness on his face, like he couldn't wait to be near her. I returned my eyes to the table, watching her dramatically wave her arms around, and right then… it struck me what a strange thing love must be; my brother was so quiet and reserved, yet he had lost his heart to a woman who was in many ways his complete opposite. He had never willingly spent time with anyone as boisterous and lively as Roza—in fact he had often gone out of his way to avoid such people—but yet here he was, happier with her than I could ever remember seeing him._

_Even as I thought it, his face shifted; his lips curled up into a smile as she looked up and their eyes met, and her expression shifted too, her face lighting up at the sight of him. It sent an unexpected pang of envy and longing through me, completely catching me by surprise. I'd been avoiding any kind of romantic entanglement since my disastrous experience with Rolan—but seeing Dimka and his Roza together made me wish I had someone to call my own._

"There you are! I thought I was gonna have to send out a search party!" She grinned at me, rising from her chair to brush her lips against my brother's cheek. "Liss was starting to get fidgety."

"Rose! I was not!"

"Were too."

"I do _not_ fidget!"

"Actually—as much as I hate to agree with Rose….sometimes you do." Christian smiled at his girlfriend fondly, and again I felt a wave of sadness; I suppose you don't really realize what you are missing until you spend time in the presence of people that are in love.

"Well… maybe I do, just a little… but only when I get impatient."

I bit my lip, realizing that my eating breakfast had kept them all waiting. "I'm very sorry—I didn't realize you were waiting. No one told me and—"

"Oh no! That's not what I meant Vika—it's not your fault at all." She shot me an apologetic look, trying to reassure me—but unfortunately for her… it wasn't working. "I rarely take time off to do things I enjoy, so I get a little—"

"Fidgety." Rose and Christian spoke in unison, then glared at each other—making everyone break out in laughter, including me.

"Fine. I fidget. I admit it. Now can we get this show on the road? We have some major shopping to do since none of you brought very much along. Chris… are you going to join us?" The look she gave her boyfriend made me giggle—it was sweet and pleading, the kind of look I thought would surely make him agree to whatever she said.

"No way—sorry Liss, but I already have plans to uh…" he looked over at Dimitri for help, but my brother averted his eyes, ignoring the panicked expression on the Moroi's face. "Help Abe. He wants me to test out some recipes for your party."

Lissa shot him a skeptical look, but shrugged her shoulders as she gracefully rose from her chair. "If you'd rather spend time cooped up with a man old enough to be your father instead of with five beautiful women—your loss. Are we ready girls?"

Mama tossed back the last of her coffee, setting her cup down and nodding her head. "Will we be leaving the grounds or staying here?"

"There are some really wonderful shops here so there's no need to leave the wards… unless you wanted to go into the city for some sightseeing?" Lissa looked over her shoulder at the four member of her guard that were stationed a discreet distance away from the patio table, surrounding the perimeter. "We'll have to wait for more guardians and arrange for a limo but—"

"No… no, that's fine. You just seemed so excited—I thought it was because we were leaving court." Mama reached over, gently touching her arm to stop her from summoning the guardians over.

Roza chuckled, smiling fondly at her best friend. "She always gets like that when shopping is involved—she's like a little kid on a massive sugar high." Stretching, she laced her arm through mine, giving me a conspiratorial wink, then glared teasingly at the others. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's move! Daylight's burning—the sooner we get started the sooner Lissa will stop wiggling around like she's got ants in her pants."

"Roza…did you just quote John Wayne?"

Ignoring Lissa's indignant protest, she tugged me away from the table, leaning a little closer to me with a mischievous smile on her face. "Blame your brother's influence. Speaking of which… wanna tell me about threatening to castrate him?"

A hot blush flooded my cheeks, making me hide my face away behind my hair. "I didn't—he took it the wrong way. I was talking about his hair… not his… you know."

"Oh I bet he'd love that." She laughed softly, her smile widening. "Hate to break it to you, but that would probably piss him off a hell of a lot more than it would me, seeing as how I told him if he ever cut his hair I'd chop off all mine too."

"That would be a very foolish thing to do Roza—you have beautiful hair." I reached over, tugging on a wavy strand. "I wish mine was half as nice as yours."

"Well… I probably shouldn't be spoiling the surprise, but I know for a fact Lissa plans to treat you to a day at the spa before the party, so you could always try a new style—but honestly I don't see what's wrong with yours. I happen to think it's pretty great."

"Only because it's the same color as Dimka's," I teased as she steered me around the corner. "If his was green you'd probably like it too. I swear I have never seen two people so—" I stopped short, my eyes widening as I gazed down the street. It was filled with shops, the windows displaying clothes the likes of which we'd never be able to get in Baia.

"Vik? You okay?"

"So many shops…."

"Yeah, well you better be prepared to hit every single one of them. Lissa's like the energizer bunny when it comes to shopping. She keeps going and going until I have to beg her to stop." Tugging open the door to the first shop, she motioned me inside. "Wait here… I've just gotta tell the manager the queen is coming in. They'll have to close the store down while we're here—for safety's sake."

"But… she was just sitting out in the open… isn't that more dangerous?"

"No—there were a lot more guardians around than just the four that we had in sight. In here she'll be going into a secluded changing room—someone could grab her or harm her faster than you could blink, and since I'm 'off duty' she won't let me go in with her. Be right back."

I watched as she strode up to the counter; leaning against it as she talked with the clerk, her eyes constantly darted around the store. Just thinking about the logistics she must go through every day to keep Lissa safe was enough to make me glad that I'd never have a charge of my own. It had to be exhausting, always focusing on someone else, trying to anticipate any little thing that could put her in harms way. To my amazement the boutiques owner began herding up the customers that were browsing, ushering them past me and out the door.

"You too miss—I'm sorry, but the Queen will be here any minute." She gave me a fake smile, jerking her head towards the door.

"She's with the Queen's group." Roza called from where she was leaning, a look of irritation crossing her face. "Hard to believe, I know… but the Queen _does_ go shopping with dhampirs."

"I didn't mean—"

"You did… your smile expressed your thoughts clearly." She pushed off the counter, brushing past the woman to peer out the door. "It doesn't matter one way or the other whether you approve, but you _will _ be polite and respectful to the dhampirs that are shopping with the Queen."

"Of course. I wouldn't—"

"Whatever. She's here. Vika, do me a favor and run back and check the dressing rooms. If anyone's in there let me know so we can get them out before Lissa starts to browse." Ignoring the Moroi's mumbled apologies, she pushed open the door, holding it open for two members of the Royal Guard to enter and confer with her.

I hurried to the back of the store, knocking on each of the doors, then peering underneath them to make sure each was clear; returning to Roza's side, I gave the all clear. "Everyone is gone. But… is she really in that much danger? I thought the people loved her…why would—"

She rubbed the center of her chest, her face completely emotionless—but I understood what the gesture meant. "It only takes one dissatisfied Royal, Vika. One bullet and the young, liberal queen who believes in equal rights for dhampirs and that Moroi should learn defense would be nothing more than a few sentences in a history book. Now smile… and don't bring up safety in front of her. She's got enough shit on her plate without adding to her worries." She turned, her expression shifting as she moved forward towards her best friend; to look at her you'd never guess that a moment before she'd been discussing something so grim. "Well… are you ready to show Vika how it's done?"

Lissa's face was practically glowing with happiness as she glanced around the shop. "Look at that dress! It would look wonderful on Olena—maybe with her hair piled up and a few messy curls around her face. And that one over there… Vika… what size are you?"

Roza glanced back at me, and I swear I saw a flicker of regret in her dark, dark eyes. It puzzled me for a moment before I realized that despite the fact that she had taken time off to spend with my family, she couldn't kick back and have fun like the rest of us. Even on her day off she had to be alert, putting her best friends safety above everything else. As Lissa wandered off, I reached over and took Roza's hand, squeezing it gently. "Couldn't you have a few more guardians join us? Maybe then you could—"

"No. I couldn't." She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes following Lissa's blonde head as she weaved her way through the racks. "I'm her guardian. I always have been. There's only one other person I trust to keep her safe—and if he were here I'd want him to be spending time with you guys, so even then…" Her voice trailed off and she pulled her hand free, gently shoving me in the direction Lissa had taken. "But you can help me out today—be my second set of eyes. Consider it field experience."

The fact she didn't want to discuss it was obvious, so I simply nodded my head and followed after her friend—but her reaction made me wonder if maybe deep down inside, sometimes she wished her life were a little more like the one my sisters and I shared. We weren't expected to go into service—in fact, Yeva forbid it. She was the only female in our family who had duty a guardian and something had happened during that time that soured her to the lifestyle; I often wondered what it could have been, but it was something she refused to talk about.

"Look at this—isn't it cute?"

I was pulled out of my musings by Lissa's voice as she thrust a blouse into my hands. I ran my fingers over the garment, admiring her taste. "It's a very pretty color. I love this shade of red." I flipped over the price tag, staring at it a moment, then immediately handed it back to her. "But… I have one similar at home."

"Oh… okay then. We'll find something else that's even cuter."

I waited until she was distracted by the clothes to make a beeline for my mother. "Mama—"

"That was a very pretty top, didn't you like it, kotyonok?"

"It was two hundred American dollars, Mama. For a _shirt._"

Mama's brow crinkled up as she glanced around the shop. "Maybe it was a misprint. Surely—"

"No… it wasn't. Look." I reached over, grabbing a random dress off the nearest rack. "Seven hundred dollars. Do you think this is a misprint too?"

"Oh dear… we can't afford these prices. I wanted to find you a pretty dress but—"

"I know." I interrupted, anxious to reassure her. "We'll figure something out. Maybe Dimka can take us somewhere away from court—where things aren't so ridiculously expensive."

She studied me for a moment—surprised, I suppose that I wasn't pitching a fit. "That is a very mature outlook Vika… I'm proud of you."

"Come on Mama—give me a little credit. That shirt alone could feed our family for a month. I'm not so selfish that I'd expect you to waste that kind of money on me." It hurt to think that she'd assumed otherwise. Maybe at one time I would have acted as she'd feared, but a person can grow up a lot in a few months' time—and it saddened me that she didn't realize that's just what I had done.

"Her dress isn't here. And it isn't anywhere Dimka would take you. I've seen it—and you will swallow your pride and accept it graciously."

"I will not let the queen—"

"It's not the queen who will pay for it." Yeva gave me a look, jerking her head around the store. "These are the kind of things she likes, pretty but not outstanding. The dress you will wear to the dance is the kind that takes a man's breath away kotyonok. The kind of dress that makes you feel like a princess. Don't you want to look beautiful when you…"

Her voice trailed off and she swayed on her feet, her eyes losing their focus. I glanced over at my mother, reaching out to support my grandmother as I guided her to a chair. "See if they have some water. I'll keep an eye on her."

I smoothed back her hair, gently stroking her soft, wrinkled cheek; her eyes darted from side to side beneath her closed lids as she mumbled hushed words that made no sense. I felt so helpless, watching her—but until the vision played out in her head, nothing could be done.

"Vika? Oh—is she all right?" Lissa dropped down beside me, reaching for my grandmother's hand. I felt a strange prickling sensation, like something was dancing along my skin that made me reach out, gently batting her hand away. "She is fine… she doesn't need healing."

"How did you know what I was doing?" Her green eyes were wide and surprised, making me realize I'd almost given away my secret.

"There is a spirit user in my village. I'm accustomed to her trying to help people." The lie rolled off my tongue easily, my voice as smooth as silk. "I didn't want you to endanger your own health when it wasn't needed. My grandmother is… a seer… she has visions. She's trapped in one now."

"Like Rhonda?" She turned, glancing over at Roza, who'd come up behind me

"Sort of. Dimitri said she used to read cards like Rhonda does. Is she going to be okay?" My brother's girlfriend studied my grandmother, her face full of curiosity. "I really thought all that talk about her seeing things was bogus."

"Her predictions usually come true." I stroked Yeva's cheek again, wondering what was taking my mother so long.

"Because she words them so vaguely you can't disprove them."

"When I was six years old she had a vision… when she snapped out of it she told my mother that caves were dangerous to Dimka. Was that vague—or did it come true, Roza? Where was my brother when he fell to the Strigoi and everyone left him to die?" It came out harsher than I meant for it too, but I couldn't stop myself from lashing out at her. Her reaction was like so many other peoples—it was the reason I never discussed the things I saw. I didn't want people whispering about me… treating me like I was crazy—or acting like I was a fraud, making things up for attention.

She jerked back like I had hit her; before she could compose her features, the trembling of her lip betrayed how deeply I'd wounded her. "Thanks for throwing that in my face… it's not like I don't regret it every single day of my fucking life."

"Roza—"

"That was cruel Viktoria. She tried to go back… they wouldn't let her." Yeva's eyes jerked open, locking on Roza, her voice weak and thin. "She would have followed him into death if they hadn't held her back."

"I should have fought harder." Something in her voice made me glance up at her, but she wouldn't meet my eyes. She turned her head to gaze out the large window that overlooked the street, but I saw a single tear slide down her cheek before she reached up to brush it away.

"Tell her the rest of that prophecy granddaughter—the part no one understood. You hurt her with angry words… perhaps knowing what I saw so long ago will soothe away the sting."

I didn't speak—I couldn't. My grandmother was right and the fact I had been so petty filled me with shame. Shaking her head, Yeva pushed herself up from the chair, reaching out to grasp Roza's chin, forcing her to meet her eyes. "I saw a bush of wild red roses, the kind that refused to be tamed. I told them all that a wild rose would be the one to save my grandson's soul. You don't have to believe in me Roza… but I believe in _you._" Her hand dropped down to brush against Roza's abdomen, her face filling with a reverence I'd only seen her wear in church. "The children… yours and Dimitri's… they will change the world."

"Now I know you're full of shit—or have you forgotten? Dhampirs can't have kids together." She jerked back, trying to turn away, but my grandmother refused to let her go. "You're being just as cruel as she was—you do realize that, right?"

"I am telling you what I have _seen_. You are more than just a dhampir Roza—and so is Dimitri. It will happen—and when it does, you must be careful. Fate can be changed by careless acts… for your children to survive, you will need the help of someone you almost destroyed." Her eyes drifted over to me, and for a moment the hair on the back of my neck prickled, standing on end. Her words were important, thought I didn't know why; my own gift was responding to what she said, confirming it as truth.

"Yeah? So what… we'll be the first dhampir couple to figure out a way to get infertility treatments without the humans noticing our genetics aren't normal?" Roza pulled away, shaking her head. "Maybe you should go meet Rhonda and the two of you can practice your crap on someone who actually believes the things you say."

"Rose…" Lissa stood up, reaching for her friend. "Who knows, maybe she's right. Maybe—"

"Enough! Please Lissa… just let it go. You know what… I think I need to get some fresh air. I'll be right outside the door if you need me." Jaw tensed, she shoved the door open with so much force that it bounced back, narrowly avoiding hitting her.

Lissa watched her walk away with an expression of sadness etched across her lovely face. "Did you really see children?"

"I did. They will be beautiful… and brave. And they will need you to guide them."

"Me? But… why? What do I know about—"

"No more questions. You will know when the time comes. When you hold your goddaughter and gaze into her eyes… you will understand what I mean Vasilisa. And when you watch her with her baby brother… you will help them understand why they are different."

"Goddaughter?" Lissa's mouth dropped open, her face lighting up as if she'd swallowed the moon.

A name came to me, followed by another. They rang out in my head like the soft pealing of a crystal bell, and I spoke without thinking. "Anya… Anya Vasilisa…and…. Ivan…" I glanced up at my grandmother for confirmation; she patted my cheek nodding her head.

"We will speak of this no more. That is the way of prophecy. Now tell me Vasilisa… where can I find this Rhonda? I would very much like to visit with her and see what she has to say." Yeva glanced over at me, steering the topic away from what I'd said before the young queen realized that I had spouted out prophecy too.

I stood up, taking a deep breath as I watched Roza through the window. Just looking at her, it seemed like she was fine, but I recognized the expression on her face; she was hiding her emotions away, refusing to free them. I tried to tell myself it would be best to leave her alone—once she'd calmed down she would be more likely to accept my apology—but I simply couldn't let her stand out there and suffer alone. After taking a moment to mentally prepare myself for the angry outburst I was sure to receive, I pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool night air.

"Viktoria… I swear to God if you say one thing about kids I'm gonna punch you in the face."

"Actually… I was going to say that you look quite terrifying and you are probably scaring everyone that walks by." I leaned against the wall beside her, trying not to invade her space.

"They're used to it."

"For what it's worth… I'm sorry I snapped at you. I can be a little overprotective when it comes to people doubting what Yeva says."

She sighed, bumping her head back against the wall. "It's not like I want kids… not right now. But Dimitri wants them… and I know someday… when I'm a little older… I will too. So it hurts, you know? Like rubbing salt in an open wound."

"If Yeva saw children—"

"I don't buy into that crap. It's all a matter of interpretation."

"It seemed pretty clear to me." I glanced over at her, not sure how much I could say before her temper gaining the better of her.

"Come on Vik—really? That part about me needing someone I hurt in order to have kids that survived? The only person I've really hurt is a Moroi—the guy I was involved with when Dimitri got restored. Of course I'd need him—cause dhampirs can't have kids together. But you know what? I guarantee you that's not gonna happen—I'm not going to screw my ex just to have kids. I wouldn't do that to him or to Dimitri—and I don't want to sleep with anyone but your brother."

"It's not always as black and white as you seem to think. You're right… sometimes predictions are vague, but it's a matter of faith, Roza."

"I'm not a big believer in things I can't see."

I chewed at my bottom lip, troubled by what she'd said. My family is very religious—and though she'd attended church with us, her statement indicated she might not really believe in what that represented. "You can't see God—do you believe in Him?"

"That's a hard question to answer." She heaved a deep sigh, closing her eyes. "A year ago I probably would have said no…but I _saw _your brother's soul return to his body. How can I doubt God after that? But it's hard for me to put blind faith in anything."

"Would you say what happened to Dimitri was a miracle?"

"Yes."

"Then why is it so hard to believe you might get another?"

"Because if it was possible it would have happened to dhampirs by now. We'd have heard…Oh God…" Her eyes snapped open, a look of horror crossing her face as she reached out, grabbing onto my arm. "Viktoria… what was it she said… about fate being changed?"

"Fate can be changed by careless acts… why?"

"Because I just remembered something someone said to me… about dhampirs having children. That we don't need to throw ourselves into battle…because making children isn't really that difficult." Her grip on my arm tightened painfully. "There is someone else I hurt… a Moroi named Robert Doru. His brother was the one who said it. Victor Dashkov knew a way for dhampirs to have kids together… and in one _careless _ moment… I killed him."


	5. Chapter 5: The Truth Hurts

Dear Diary,

_—Entry continued—_

_I must admit I was a bit startled by what she said, but as I thought about it, I realized that perhaps I shouldn't have been. Koyla had shared with me some of the things his brother had told him about the time Roza had spent hunting with his group, so I already knew she could be deadly. To the unpromised dhampires from Baia, she represented everything a warrior should aspire to; she was ruthless and absolutely lethal, without a hint of mercy, which was why they'd taken to calling her krasivaya gibel'—beautiful death._

"Does my brother know this?"

"He was there when Victor said it… and later…when I killed him. The darkness took over, Vika. I didn't mean to do it. Yeah, I hated him and may have wanted him dead for the things he did to Liss… but not by my own hand. He was the closest thing I had to a father growing up and… the way he died still haunts me" She released her grip on my arm, but moved closer, lowering her voice. "No one knows other than the people who were there that day. Dimitri… he got rid of the body. You can't tell anyone, if you did—"

I interrupted her, my own temper flaring to life. "You really think I would do that? Put my own brother—and you—in jeopardy in such a way? Seriously Roza?"

"No… I guess you wouldn't. I'm sorry—I shouldn't have said anything in the first place, it just kinda slipped out when I realized that for once… what Yeva said actually made sense."

"Regardless—she says she has seen your children, so I don't think that incident was what she was referring to. You just have to be more careful in the future so as not to tempt the fates." I took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, mentally willing her to believe the things I said. "I want to know more about what happened, but perhaps it should wait until later… when we aren't standing in the middle of the street, yes? Right now we should go save your friend from my grandmother—you know Yeva has a way of scaring people without meaning to."

"I kinda wish she'd stuck with the whole not speaking English routine she used on me in Russia. Liss is gonna drive me nuts hounding me about what she heard in there. She'll probably want to start shopping for my non-existent baby." She gave me a one armed hug, rolling her eyes. "You're right though, we shouldn't be talking about this here. Maybe you and I can have a girls night before you go home… I'll sleep over and we can pig out in front of the TV while I answer all your questions."

Before I tell her how much I'd like that, the door jerked open and Lissa's blonde head appeared; the fact she was distressed by something was written all over her face. "They want to leave! Rose you have to do something to stop them!"

"Like what? Hog tie them?" Rose steered me back inside, gently nudging Lissa further into the store. "Let me guess, Yeva wants to go meet Rhonda to compare trade secrets?"

"Yes! I told her we could do it later, but she's insisting she has to go right now."

"So let her go—shopping really isn't her thing." My eyes wandered over to where my grandmother stood, whispering to my mother as she watched us with a worried expression on her face. "Besides, she tires very easily. We'll be able to visit more shops if she is doing something else."

"But I wanted to buy them outfits for the luncheon I'm having next week—I had the whole day planned out and this is going to ruin everything." She looked absolutely devastated—though I really couldn't understand why; surely it wasn't that big a deal that my grandmother didn't want to shop. "Roza, maybe—"

"Vika, why don't you go check on Yeva and let me deal with this?" Her eyes were locked on the young queen's hands, her face scrunched up with concern. "Lissa… where's your ring?"

"I threw it away—I don't need it." Lissa slid her hands behind her back, glaring defiantly at both of us.

"Yes… you do." Reaching into her pocket she groaned. "Shit—I don't have any on me. I'll have Sergi run to Sonya's and—Vika… didn't I ask you to go check on your grandmother?"

I ignored her question, already rummaging through my purse. "It's Spirit isn't it? I can help… hold on, it's in here somewhere." I knelt down, dumping the contents of my bag on the ground, searching for the small bundle Oksana had dropped off the day before we'd left home. "Between the jet lag and rushing around it completely slipped my mind, but I have a gift for Lissa in here somewhere. Ah—see?" I held up the small package proudly, happy I could help. "I'm so sorry I forgot to give this to you Lissa—it's from our friend back home that specializes in Spirit."

She immediately snatched it out of my hand, ripping into the tissue paper with an almost childlike expression of glee. "I love presents! Especially ones—oh a necklace! It's beautiful!"

"Shall I help you put it on?" I stood up as she nodded, moving her hair out of the way to fasten the thin silver chain around her neck. The necklace itself might not help her much, but the large, ornate Orthodox cross pendant that rested against her skin, right at the hollow of her throat should certainly do the trick. "Oksa has one very similar and liked the idea of you having one too… she thought it would be an appropriate gift since Roza mentioned you always attend services."

The difference the charmed silver made was immediately apparent; her eyes calmed and the almost manic look that had been in them a moment before faded away before my eyes. "I'll have to send her a thank you note… and a return gift. Maybe you can deliver it for me?"

"Of course. I would be glad to. She hopes to one day have the honor of meeting you—there are no other Spirit users in our area and she is very excited to know all about what you have discovered."

"It would be nice if I could get away for a while… go to Baia and meet her. Unfortunately, I don't see it happening anytime soon." Her eyes darted from me to Rose, then over to my grandmother, her brow wrinkling with confusion. "I'm sorry… for some strange reason… I don't remember what we were talking about before."

"The wicked witch of the East wants to meet the wicked witch of the West," Roza stood up from where she'd been shoving things back in my purse, handing it to me with a rueful grin. "Thanks—that was quick thinking."

I waved off her comment. "My grandmother wants to meet the person you were talking about. She is being rather stubborn about doing it now."

"Well if she wants to go, then she should. This is her vacation, after all. Rose, will you send for a car? It's way too far for her to walk. And maybe contact Ambrose and tell him I asked to please make sure they get in immediately."

"Sure thing. Why don't you finish looking around while we wait so we can move on to the next store?" She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen while she spoke.

"There's nothing here I really like… maybe we should try Margo's." Lissa gave me a conspiratorial look, lacing her arm through mine. " She always has the best things. She also takes custom orders—that's where I get most of my clothes. We probably should have just started off there from the get go."

"Car will be here in a few. Vik, will you tell Yeva? Maybe that will get her to chill out and quit giving us the evil eye. I swear to God if I'm as bitchy as she is when I get old—"

"Some might say you are already there," I teased, "in fact, I am fairly certain of it."

"Very funny smart ass, " she muttered under her breath as I pulled away from Lissa, making my way over to where my mother was trying to calm Yeva down.

"Grandmother, stop fretting—Roza sent for a car. It will take you to meet—"

"She won't last long at all. A year or two at most." Yeva narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

"Who? The seer?"

Mama pulled me closer to them, her voice a whisper. "No—the queen. She is worried the queen is going to lose herself in Spirit."

"Don't be silly, Roza would never let that happen. She would find a way to re-invoke their bond first."

"Unless she is caught unaware. Is she with the queen twenty four hours a day Vika? Who knows what she does when she is on her own, safely locked away behind the closed doors of her room." She tore her eyes away from Lissa, narrowing them as she looked me over from head to toe. "Regardless… you cannot let her fragile mental state deter you. Do not tiptoe around her—speak your mind, no matter what. You must always be true to yourself and what you believe in."

I was unable to stop myself from laughing. "I must be hearing things—don't you usually reprimand me for being _too _ outspoken?"

"Don't be insolent Viktoria Aleksandra Belikova. Just as with everything in life, there is a proper way to do it. You can be respectful and still state what you think. _That_ is what you need to work on."

"Wow… that was fast—they must have had someone nearby. The car's pulling up," Roza called from beside the door. "Olena—are you escaping too?"

"Yes, I think I should probably go with Mama and leave you young people to your fun. Besides… it might be interesting to have my cards read by someone else for a change." My mother glanced nervously at Lissa, obviously afraid of upsetting her further. "If that's alright?"

"Of course it's alright! Please—do whatever makes you happy. You're here for a month, so I'm sure we can do this another time—in fact it will give me a good excuse to take another day off. Rose is always griping about me working too hard."

"Because you _do_ work too hard." Holding the door open for my mother, Roza gave her friend a pointed look. "And I'm gonna keep right on hounding you until you actually listen to me and take a little time for yourself."

"You see? A Guardian is meant to do so much more than just protect their charge from physical danger. They are also supposed to look after their all around well being. There is more to keeping a Moroi safe than just fighting Strigoi." Yeva patted Roza on the cheek as she walked by, ignoring the dirty look she received in return for the gesture. "Roza knows that—it is what makes her so good at her job."

I frowned, wondering how it was that my grandmother could praise my brother's girlfriend when she so vehemently disapproved of women serving—but I held my tongue. Even if I asked her about it, I knew I wouldn't get a straight answer, so I might as well save my breath. Still, it played through my mind as our little group wandered through the next few shops, like an itch that wouldn't go away. The double standard between my sisters and I and Roza couldn't be because she wasn't a blood relative—as far as grandmother was concerned, Roza was Dimitri's wife, which made her family, so by right, the same rules should apply to her as well. So what was it that made it alright for her to be out in the world, living her dreams and guarding a charge while we were forced to stay in Baia and find meaningless jobs, our sole purpose in life being to have babies? It made no sense to me at all, no matter how I looked at it.

On top of that problem, with each boutique we entered, I felt more and more out of place. I'd never realized how backwards Baia was when it came to things like fashion and style until then. All of the clothing I'd brought with me was the very best I owned, but compared to the things that were on display and what the sales girls were wearing… all my stuff was obviously dated and old fashioned. I stood out like a sore thumb, feeling more and more self conscious with every minute that passed. I didn't say anything, but I could feel my heart sinking lower and lower in my chest, and I found myself wishing I'd gone with Mama and Yeva or even with my brother and his charge—anywhere would be better than standing among all the fine, expensive clothing in my old faded out jeans and baggy t-shirt.

It took a while for Lissa to notice the fact my mood had completely changed; once Oksa's necklace had her element under control, she was back to acting carefree and happy go lucky—and she was having a blast. The Moroi Queen treated shopping with an intensity that amazed me; she completely immersed herself in the activity in a way that most people reserved for much more serious past things, like studying a new language or maybe learning a trade. It seemed like as soon as we entered a store she had assessed the inventory in a single glance, immediately pulling items off the racks with a self-assured certainty that I couldn't helpbut envy. When I shopped for clothing I was never really sure what would look good on me, often wasting several hours browsing without buying a single thing. Lissa didn't seem to have my hang ups about fashion—she knew what she liked and what suited her, buying things without even bothering to try them on to check and see if they fit. That alone made it obvious that money wasn't an issue for her; she never even glanced at the prices, which certainly had never been the case for me. By the time we'd left the next couple of stores, our arms were so overloaded that Roza had to send for another car, just to haul the purchases. The driver followed us fromshop to shop, filling the trunk—and later, the backseat—with all the things Lissa bought in her shopping frenzy.

"What about this one," she asked, holding out a silky red dress with a draped, plunging neckline for my inspection.

My eyes darted down to the dangling tag; immediately I shook my head. "It's very nice, but not really my style."

"That's the same thing you've said about the last five dresses! Honestly Vika—you're harder to please than Rose… and that's saying a lot. Just try it on. Please?

"What's the point if I already know I'm not going to buy it?"

"Viktoria—just do it." Roza leaned against the rack, eyeing the dress. "It will look great on you."

"I don't—"

"Try this one too—I think the color will look amazing." Eyes still on the rack in front of her, Lissa thrust another dress at me, cutting off my protest before I could get it out of my mouth. "Ooooh—and this!"

I shot Roza a pleading look, but she was no help—all she did was she jerk her head towards the dressing room with an amused smile on her face. "You do realize… the longer you stand there, the more crap she's gonna hand you, right? So it'd be in your best interest to haul ass to the fitting room before she has you so loaded down you can't even walk."

I moved closer to her, lowering my voice to the softest whisper I could manage. "I can't buy these. You know we don't have this kind of money!"

"Nonsense! This is my treat." Apparently my quietest whisper wasn't enough to escape Lissa's ears. Her head shot up, her green eyes fixed on me like lasers. "You and your family are my guests and you'll be attending functions that require a certain type of clothing"

"I'm aware of that. We are going to ask Dimka to take us into town to pick up a few things. Mama said—"

Lissa rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively at my statement. "You leave your mother to me. Once she sees what I've picked out for her… oh crud… I forgot to get her sizes. I don't suppose you know, do you?"

"No—I'm sorry." I glanced down at the dresses in my arms, feeling a rush of longing. They were far more elaborate and beautiful than the plain black dress I'd bought in preparation for the trip—much more appropriate for a party in honor of the queen. The dress I'd spent hours picking out so carefully back home was the type of thing the women at court seemed to wear day to day for things like going out to lunch or running errands.

"Viktoria! Why are you still standing there? Go try them on so we can see how they look—that's an order!" She smiled brightly, handing a dress to Roza—who took it without a word of protest, much to my surprise.

"Like I told you before—she always gets her way. It's easier to just go with the flow. Come on—let's get this over with before she buys out the whole damned store." Glancing over at the doorway, she made a slight gesture with her hand; the guardians stationed at either side of the entranced pushed away from the wall moving towards us. The taller of the two spoke into the small headset he was wearing as they moved to flank Lissa so they could follow her as she moved about the store—and a moment later two new guardians entered the shop, immediately taking the places that had been abandoned by the door.

"Does she really need them so close to her?" I asked softly as we headed towards the fitting rooms.

"Probably not… but better safe than sorry. Besides, having them hover over her will get under her skin pretty fast—which means she won't make me try anything else on. She knows if I'm standing next to her the others will fall back and give her room to breathe. Brilliant, huh?" Shooting me a huge grin she pointed to one of the cubicles before entering the one right beside it. "She's gonna want to see them on you, so no quick changes. You get to be a model today."

"Wonderful," I said drily, entering the small room and moving to shut the door behind me.

"Miss Belikova? You're supposed to try this one too."

I held the door open for the sales woman to enter, eying the dark colored garment bag in her hands. She smiled brightly as she hung it on a small hook beside the door, not seeming to be disturbed at the thought of waiting on a dhampir. "If you need any help, just let me know."

"Thank you,. I'm sorry the Queen sent you after me—I'm sure you have other things that need doing."

"Oh that's not from the queen. Mr. Mazur came in this morning and picked it out—he said you were visiting the Queen and the two of you would be in today or tomorrow."

"Mr. Mazur… but did he say why?"

"He mentioned something about a party." The Moroi shrugged her slim shoulders, running her eyes over my figure. "It might be a bit snug on you, but we can always alter it—or we have things you can wear underneath to insure a better fit. I must say… his taste is exceptional—the color will work marvelously with your eyes and your hair. We have some shoes we can dye to match the gown too." I felt my face flush as her pale eyes dropped to my feet—I've always been embarrassed about their size. "Eight and a half?"

"Nine and a half, though sometimes even that is snug. It depends on the shoes."

"Well we have plenty in that size." She smiled reassuringly at me. "I make sure to keep the larger sizes in stock since most of my clients are tall… the taller you are, the bigger your feet are." She laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I hope my daughter is as tall as you are when she gets older. Right now she's shorter than all her classmates and it upsets her terribly."

"I'm sure she will grow, ma'am. Out of my entire class, there's not one short Moroi in the bunch."

"Oh… no. She's a dhampir. Like you. My husband is one of the staff Guardians here at Court." She smiled again, moving to leave the room. "I'll just go pull a few pairs of shoes in different sizes and leave them outside the door. My name is Joy, so if you need me, just open the door and give a little shout."

I called out my thanks as the door closed, marveling over how different her attitude was as opposed to the other women we'd encountered so far. They had all been polite but cold, obviously feeling that it was beneath their queen to willingly associate with someone like me—who was miles beneath her class. Moving to hang up the dresses in my hand on another hook that was near the first, my eyes darted over to the zipped up bag as I contemplated what I should try on first. Curiosity won out—I had to know what was hidden away beneath the protective coating. I unzipped the bag—and immediately got the surprise of my life.

I was honestly expecting something outlandish and flashy—maybe in some garish shade of bright yellow or fuchsia pink; I mean, judging by the way Abe dressed, his taste was a little… out there, to say the least. The ball gown inside was nothing like that at all—in fact, it was quite possibly the most elegant dress that I had ever seen, resembling the sort of thing that women used to wear in my grandmothers favorite old movies. It had a sleeveless bodice that would tightly hug my breasts and waist, flaring out to a full, flowing skirt that would gently brush the ground as I moved. The material wasn't any of the shades I'd feared—instead it was the color of milk chocolate, gradually ombréing down into the skirt so the hem was a brown so dark it looked almost black. Even more thrilling was how the entire thing was sprinkled with tiny faceted crystals that caught the light in a way that made the gradual color change almost ripple before my eyes. It was in all honesty the most amazing dress imaginable—so beautiful that it astounded me.

Until I saw the price tag that was pinned to the waist.

After seeing how much the clothes Lissa had picked out cost, I should have been prepared—but I wasn't. I stared at that small tag, mentally converting the American Dollars to Rubles in my head, then sank down on the small bench that was nestled against the wall as I let out a hushed curse in my native tongue. If my calculations were correct, my entire family could live for almost three years on the cost of just that one single dress. Sitting there, trying to control my breathing, I thought about all the things the Queen had bought that day; I realized just how much money had been wasted away on things she'd probably only wear once and then never even touch again… and it sickened me.

I didn't judge her for her actions—I'll be the first to admit I've wasted my mother's hard earned money in the past, but certainly never to the extent the queen had in one day. There was a time when I thought only of myself and what I wanted; I'd wheedled and begged Mama to buy me things I didn't really need in an attempt to fit in with the Royals back at school, not caring that she had to do without things she needed in order to give me what I wanted. That all changed the day I opened the door and saw my big brother alive, standing in front of me, when I'd thought I'd lost him forever. Seeing someone who has actually been brought back… it changes you, way deep down inside. It makes you realize what is really important—and having him home made me think about other things too. He seemed so much like the old Dimitri that day; he'd looked the same and talked the same as always… but a part of him was different. I realized that the first night, when I heard him cry out in his sleep—haunted by dreams of the things he had done and could never fully forget. Still… he was still willing to help when people needed him—even if it meant reliving his nightmares by facing a Strigoi down in a cave.

I suppose you could say my big brother's nightmares made a part of me grow up, and so did the way he put the needs of others over his own. Those things opened my eyes to the fact that sometimes people are suffering right in front of you, but they hide it away so completely that you'd never ever suspect it. They made me realize that we all have to do our part to help others, no matter what it might cost us personally; and I like to that think I'm a better person because of those lessons.

When I returned to school after Dimka's visit, I was more empathetic to other people's needs. I suppose you could say that I had an entirely new outlook; I still wanted to have a good time… but I no longer did it at expense of others. Before, I'd been guilty of going along with my friends when they mocked other students who were outside our group for superficial things like how they dressed or wore their hair—not stopping to consider the reason why their clothing was shabby or their shoes looked so worn. In tying to make amends for my behavior, I took the time to learn what I'd so blatantly ignored before—that a large portion of my classmates were orphans. Even some of the ones who had a parent still living were from families that barely made enough to make ends meet; they didn't get to go home for holiday visits or receive care packages from home the way I did—because their families couldn't afford it. The amount the queen had spent in a single hour could have helped those families or the orphans back at school; it was more than some of them would earn in a year… yet Lissa had never even thought about it.

I must have made some kind of sound without really being aware of it, because the next thing I knew, the door to the dressing room was rattling on its hinges.

"Vika? You okay?"

"I'm fine." I was willing to bet she wouldn't believe me since my voice trembled, betraying the fact it wasn't true at all.

There was silence for a moment, then the door began to rattle again. "No you're not. Open up—or I'll open it myself and I really don't wanna pay for a new door."

I knew she'd make good on her threat, so I took another deep breath—still feeling off kilter from my sudden realization—standing on shaky legs to go over and unlock the door. I tried to mask away my emotions as I cracked it open, intending to let her see I was alright and send her away—but Roza had something else in mind entirely. Shoving past me she glanced around the room as if she thought an intruder had somehow gotten in, then turned her attention on me, her eyes widening as they met mine.

"Shit Vik—you're almost as pale as Lissa! Sit down before you keel over on me." Steering me back over to the bench I'd just vacated, she kneeled down in front of me, gently taking my hand. "Is it the jet lag again? Maybe we've done too much in one day—you should've told me you were starting to feel bad again."

"No… It's these dresses… Roza—I don't belong here."

"Don't be stupid! Of courseyou do. What does that have to do with—"

"This kind of spending… it's a sin!" I shook my head, pulling my hand free; frustration welled up in me because I couldn't put into words the depth of what I was feeling. "Back home some of my classmates families can barely afford to eat—and here people are wasting this kind of money on stupid, meaningless clothes! There are orphans at my school wearing things that are full of holes—and the cost of just _one_ of the dresses she's bought could buy them a whole damned wardrobe!"

"Vika… calm down." She recaptured my hand, holding it tight.

"I won't! The queen is a very nice person—but Roza… this isn't right!" I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as my indignant anger flared to life. "What she's spent just today could buy clothes for all of them—and there would probably be enough left over to help the needy families too."

She didn't respond at first, she just sat there studying me with those dark, dark eyes that were so much like her fathers. The silence wasn't comfortable; it filled me with unease. I was positive that by speaking negatively against her best friend I had inadvertently reopened the old wounds between us that I had inflicted when I hurled those hateful words at her back home, and I hated to think that it might cause a problem in our relationship. But I couldn't apologize. Not when I was right. Even if it angered my brother, I had to speak up and be the voice for those who couldn't.

"You've changed. A lot," she finally said, releasing my hands and standing up. "The Viktoria I met in Russia would have loved all this. Having expensive things bought for her… being treated like a Royal." Shaking her head, she turned without another word, walking out the door and leaving me to stare after her with my stomach in anxious knots and ridiculous tears filling my eyes. Only one day into our vacation and I'd created a situation that would make everyone uncomfortable—especially my poor, poor brother.

"Vika? Are you—Rose! What did you do to her? She's crying!"

My head jerked up at the sound of her voice, my eyes blurry with tears. I swiped at them as my gaze flicked from Lissa to Roza, wondering what she might have said.

"You need to tell her what you just told me, Viktoria. And you need to tell Abe too."

"Roza… no. I can't. It's not my place to—"

She cut me off, staring me straight in the eye. "She'd trying to help dhampirs—but if she doesn't know… there's nothing she can do. If you want to help Vika… to make a difference… sometimes you have to speak out. Even if other people think it's wrong or fucking improper—otherwise nothing will ever change." Reaching out, she gently wiped away the tears that continued to trail down my cheeks, her forehead wrinkling as she bit down on her full lower lip, like she was trying to decide if she should say more. "Did you know… I have a brother?"

I stared at her, completely shocked. She smiled at my reaction, pushing back a strand of my hair. "Remember the night you were… removed from that club? That's him. Not Pavel… he's the one who came to get you…the other guy… the one who stuck by Abe's side like he was glued there. He was like the kids at your school… so helping them… it's important to me too."

I rubbed my eyes, trying to process what she'd said. "I didn't know you had a brother… you never mentioned him."

"Hell Vika—I didn't even know Abe was my father until I got home. I didn't know about Warren until recently. When Abe started hanging around court more… he finally introduced us." She shrugged her shoulders, her smile widening as she talked about her family. "Abe took him in when he was just a little kid… he was an orphan, living on the streets. Apparently it impressed the great Zmey that this scrawny little half-starved kid had the balls to pick his pocket, so he took him home… and the rest is history. My father cares about helping dhampir kids—that's why you need to tell him too."

"Is he handsome—this mysterious brother?" I searched my mind, trying to remember him, but I'd been so enraged on the night she had mentioned that everything from that evening was a blur in my memory. "Perhaps I should meet him if he is. After all… you are dating my older brother, so it is only fair, yes?"

Chuckling softly, she shook her head as she motioned for Lissa to come closer. "Not you're type. At all. He's way to quiet for someone like you."

"Will one of you please tell me what's going on? Trying on clothes is supposed to be fun, not tear inducing." Lissa sank down on the bench beside me, looking between the two of us like we were both completely crazy.

"Vika has something to tell you… something you're not gonna like." Roza's eyes met mine as she backed up, leaning against the wall; it was a clear indication that I was on my own and she wouldn't be making the conversation any easier for me.

"I don't want to upset you… not after earlier." The look in her eyes when Spirit had been riding her was still to fresh in my memory; I didn't want to be the cause of another such attack—especially not with my grandmothers prediction of gloom playing through my head.

Roza's eyes fixed on the pendant that was resting around her friends pale throat. "Oksana is probably one of the strongest Spirit users I've met. She'll be fine. Now quit stalling and get on with it."

Still, I hesitated. It was too much for Lissa's curiosity to take; she reached down, grabbing my hand, and a moment later my skin prickled with goose bumps. Looking over at her my eyes met hers, and I could feel her trying to gain access to my mind.

A surge of soothing calm flowed into me, calming my anxiety. "Viktoria… Whatever it is that's troubling you, I want to help if I can. I don't like seeing my friends upset—and even though we just met, I consider you a friend. So please… tell me what's on your mind."

I knew what she was doing… but I couldn't call her on it; to do so would be admitting that I could feel her compulsion battering against my mind—and also let them know that it didn't work on me. It would let them both know that I was different—and that was something I couldn't bear. All I could do was nod my head, trying to make myself look like I was caught within her web, and let everything I'd been feeling spill out, telling her the same things I'd told Roza, but with much more detail. By the time I was finished, she'd slumped beside me and was leaning back against the wall with a stunned look on her face.

"Why is this the first I'm hearing about this? It wasn't like that at our school—"

"Yeah… it was. You just never noticed." Roza interrupted, her voice soft but holding a faint note of reproach. "I was a ward of the Academy, and there were a few others too. Aleks—the blonde guy who used to follow you around all the time before we ran away… and Josef—Eddie's friend. There weren't as many as there apparently are at Saint Basil's… but they were there Liss. I had you and your family to help me out… but the others weren't that lucky."

Lissa's forehead wrinkled up, her eyes dropping to the floor. " Was I really that self-centered? How could I have missed—"

"You had problems of your own." Roza pushed away from the wall, hurrying over to comfort her best friend. "I didn't figure it out myself until right before the accident—since I had you helping me out… I guess I kinda figured the others were getting help too. I didn't realize I was wrong until I overheard Josef asking Eddie if he had some old sneakers he could borrow cause there was a hole in the bottom of his and the track was tearing up his foot whenever he ran."

I glanced over at her, feeling a little confused. "But you aren't an orphan… surely your mother—"

Her humorless laugh cut me off. "My mother dropped me off and never looked back. The only time I ever heard from her was if Alberta called her cause I was in big trouble. From the time I was a toddler, Saint Vladimir's was my only home, Vika. Not all of us are as lucky as you are when it comes to moms."

Lissa cleared her throat; something about her expression warned me that I probably wouldn't like whatever she was about to say. "Vika—I promise you that I am going to do whatever I can to fix things, but please… while you're here don't deny yourself nice things. You deserve to be pampered just a little, and you're my guest."

I looked over at the dresses, worrying my lower lip between my teeth; I felt torn, completely unsure as to what I should say. I wanted to do the right thing, but would it end up doing more harm than good in the end? I didn't want to stress Lissa out any more than I already had—and I didn't want to risk embarrassing her by showing up at her luncheon in something that wasn't suitable.

"Look at it this way… if you don't accept them—Olena won't either. I don't know about you, but I think she deserves them. She works her ass off, shouldn't she get a treat for a change?"

Out of all the arguments Roza could have made—that one hit below the belt. She was right and she knew it; my mother did deserve to be spoiled for a change—she'd worked hard her whole life and gone without so much, just to provide for our family. "Maybe I could leave the tags on them and return them before I go home or something." I reached out, running my fingertips along the skirt of the dress that had set off my furious tangent; despite myself… deep down inside—I wanted it so badly that it actually hurt.

My gesture caught Lissa's eye; noticing the garment for the first time, she made a sound of delight. "Where did that come from? It's gorgeous!"

"Mr. Mazur had them set it aside for me… to wear to your party. But I cannot accept it—it is far, far too expensive."

"Bullshit. Consider it repayment for my room and board when I was in Russia—besides, you can't go to the ball for the Moroi Queen looking like Cinderella."

"Cinderella went to the ball in a beautiful dress." Lissa looked over at her friend, her face reflecting her amusement.

Roza rolled her eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh. "You know what I mean… before the fairy chick turned the rats into horses. When she was in rags."

"They were mice Rose. Not rats. Maybe I need to make you watch it again so you get all the facts straight." Lissa stood up, pointing to the dresses. "Try them on. All of them—and don't think you can get out of it by saying they didn't fit. I'll be waiting right outside and I want to see every single one of them on you."

"Alright… but that doesn't mean I'm accepting them."

"You will. I'm more stubborn than you—I promise." She glanced down at her watch, pulling out her phone. "Who is in charge of the dhampir training at Saint Basil's? It shouldn't be too early to get someone on the phone." She dialed as she spoke, not waiting for a response, obviously eager to tackle the problem while it was still fresh on her mind.

"Guardian Fyodor Zykov. He is an old friend of my mother's… he's the reason I was allowed to come—"

She held up a finger, silencing me as someone answered the call. "This is Queen Vasilisa Dragomir calling for Guardian Zykov… No… this isn't a prank. Please get him on the line." She rolled her eyes, exiting the room as she switched from English to Russian, but I could tell by what she was saying that he'd immediately picked up the call.

"Guardian Zykov is probably going to think I'm playing a prank on him. Having you or someone else call and pretend to be the Queen." I glanced over at Roza, smiling, imagining what was probably going through the man's mind as he listened to Lissa's sweet voice.

"She'll set him straight fast enough. Though… maybe we should prank call him later on… since he wouldn't be expecting it after dealing with the real Liss." Roza lingered in the doorway, her eyes on the dress her father had picked out for me. "You gonna need help with that zipper?"

"I'm going to try the others on first, but thanks just the same." For the first time I noticed what she was wearing; the dress Lissa had chosen was a dark blue color, with straps that tied behind her neck. "That looks very nice on you. She has good taste."

"Yeah… but I'm not gonna get it."

"Oh, so I see how it is. I can be forced into letting her buy me clothing, but it doesn't apply to you?"

"It's not that… this is a lot like one of the dresses Dimitri gave me. Back when he was… you know. I don't want to risk upsetting him or stirring up bad memories."

My eyes went to her neck; she'd pulled her hair up in a ponytail to get it out of the way while trying on clothes, so I could easily see the faint scars that lined the sides of her throat. "Was it… I don't understand how you could let him feed… you seemed so against that sort of thing before."

She shrugged, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I can't explain it, really. At the time… I blamed it on being addicted to his bite… but now I know there was so much more to it than just that. It was… a connection, you know? When he was feeding, it was like I had this knowledge that I was providing for him… giving him something he needed. It was easy to get caught up in the moment and forget he was a Strigoi. He was just Dimitri… my Dimitri… the man I loved… and he needed me."

"That's what my Mama said when I asked her about letting my father bite her. That it was about love, not about the other stuff." I tore my eyes away, not wanting to risk embarrassing her further. "I think that if you love someone… it's not wrong, no matter what people say. What two people do in private is their business—not something they should be judged for."

"Olena… is a very smart woman. If I had it to do all over again… I'd do the same thing—even knowing that other people would call me names because of it." Smiling, she shut the door behind her, leaving me to my task.

One by one I slipped on each of the dresses Lissa had chosen; from time to time Joy appeared with a few more in her hands—I took them without complaint, though I did shake my head and groan a bit each time she knocked on the door. I made quick work of it, trying not to look at the dress Abe had picked out, even though I was so eager to get into it that I could barely contain myself. With each garment I put on I hurried out to show the young queen, somewhat embarrassed by the display; she didn't let me off easily even though she was still on the phone—when I tried to make a quick escape she summoned me back, demanding I turn so she could inspect whatever I had on from every imaginable angle. When she was finally satisfied, I was dismissed with a smile and a wave of her hand, leaving her to whisper with one of the sales girls who was standing nearby, jotting down notes on a small tablet in her hands.

Finally I was down to the only dress that mattered; studying it I could see that Roza was right—I'd need an extra set of hands. I called out to her, asking for assistance; she appeared a few minutes later, fully dressed with several shoeboxes in her arms.

It took a few minutes to get everything situated into the dress—Joy had been right, it almost didn't fit. Roza had to struggle with the zipper once it reached my bust. "Good God Viktoria! I think your boobs have gotten bigger than mine."

"Everything from Russia is big—I would think you'd know that by know. Surely spending time with my brother—" I glanced up at the mirror, my voice trailing off as I let out a delighted gasp. The dress was everything I'd hoped for—and then some.

"Yeah… speaking of your brother… he's gonna have a fit when he sees you in this." She chuckled, dropping down to her knees and opening the first box of shoes. "She must have made a mistake, these are white—they don't match."

"She said something about dying them," I murmured, still entranced by my image in the mirror. "You don't think Dimka will like it?"

"It's not a matter of him liking it." She grinned up at me, tossing her hair back out of her face. "More like it's gonna be a matter of every man at the party who sees you in it liking it way too much."

"So you think it makes me look pretty?" I wasn't fishing for compliments, but next to her… I often felt like I was lacking, especially after I'd found out that Rolan had hit on her as soon as my back was turned.

"Vik… you look beautiful. I promise. Now put the shoes on and go show Lissa—maybe after this we can grab something to eat. I swear to God my stomach is trying to digest itself."

She stood up and I leaned on her shoulder as I stepped into the heels; they weren't very tall—which was definitely a good thing, since I was already pushing 5'9 in my bare feet. We walked out of the dressing room to get Lissa's opinion, and I swear I felt a faint prickle at the back of my neck as my grandmothers earlier words floated through my head.

_'The dress you will wear to the dance is the kind that takes a man's breath away kotyonok. The kind of dress that makes you feel like a princess.'_

Judging by the way I felt, and by the look of elation on Lissa's face as she caught sight of me and let out a small shriek of delight…another of my grandmother's predictions had just come to pass. I had no way of knowing what impact this particular vision would have on my life, but I was too excited to be concerned.

After all, it's not like one silly dress can change the course of fate, right?

* * *

_**A/N **_**Four ****quick things:**

**1) If the spacing looks screwed up—sorry. I've been trying for 45 minutes to fix it, but every time I save the chapter in doc manager, but it keeps adding the spaces back in.**

**2) Not proofed because this one is 8,121 words long—and if I proof/edit it... I'll end up adding even more.**

**3) A seriously huge thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave a review—I really, really appreciate it and love hearing what you have to say.**

**and finally...**

**4) When I wrote the very last line, Rose smirked and said that some dresses have the power to change the world, start religions... and break a giant Russian's stoic control to smithereens. ;o)**


	6. Chapter 6—The Secret Garden

Dear Diary,

_When I crawled into bed last night, I was past the point of exhaustion. Foolishly I'd assumed that once I found a dress for the dance I would be done trying on things for the day—but that wasn't the case at all. First I'd been poked and prodded while Joy examined the fit and made notes on how it could be improved, then there had been an intense debate about what color the shoes should be. Lissa even wanted to buy special underthings to go beneath the dress and the 'foundation garment' Joy said we'd need—but I drew the line at modeling them... I mean, really!_

_Rose won out and we stopped to get some lunch, but after that there were several more shops that Lissa just had to see, and then she insisted on a walking tour around Court so she could show me some of her favorite places. It was great fun, but as the day wore on I started feeling laggy and a little sick—a side effect of my headache and the jet lag I still suffered from. I could barely touch the delicious dinner Christian prepared in honor of our visit; it was an array of dishes from our homeland, each one so artfully served that it seemed almost a sin to eat them. They were all delicious, but Roza chimed out that he needed to take a few lessons from Mama because they couldn't compare to the way she cooked things—something my grandmother and I agreed with once we were in private. You should have seen the look my mother gave her—it was filled with so much love and adoration that I felt a little twinge of irritation, though I tried my best to ignore it._

_After dinner we all retired to what Lissa called the 'media room'—where there were several comfortable couches and chairs grouped around an enormous television—for some 'family time'. Apparently in America that consists of watching T.V.—whereas at home if we had a family night it would be playing games together or listening to grandmother spin stories of the past. Much to Roza's dismay Lissa put in the movie they'd been bickering about earlier, and I must say it enchanted me. I'd never seen Cinderella before, though my brother often told me the tale when I was a little girl, reading from a book of fairy stories. I probably would have enjoyed the movie a lot more if Roza hadn't spent the entire time griping about having to watch it again._

_Sometimes, as much as I love her, my brother's girlfriend gets on my very last nerve—but that's just between you and me. Today... was definitely one of those days._

I had planned on sleeping in today, giving my poor body time to finally adjust to the time change. However... someone else had other ideas in mind that were entirely different than my own.

I was rudely awakened from a sound sleep by someone pouring ice cold water on my feet. This was very disturbing, for more than the obvious reason; no one should have been in my room since I'd made a point to fasten _both_ of the deadbolts on my front door. I woke up screaming and kicking, trying to free myself from the soggy blankets while my eyes darted around the room, trying to spot the intruder. She stood by the far wall—well out of striking distance—holding an empty pitcher with an amused look on her face.

"Roza! What in the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"Dimitri was right—you really are harder to wake up than me." She set the pitcher on the dresser, chuckling softly as I fought with the blankets.

"How did you get in here? I know I locked—"

"Guardian secrets. Okay... not really." She smirked, holding up a set of keys. "Seriously though—you have to get up. I have to get you to the Council meeting in less than thirty minutes."

"I'm not going anywhere but back to sleep!"

"Nope. Lissa needs you to talk to the Council—she called a special session to discuss the things you told her yesterday."

I groaned, burying my head under the pillow, but she was right there in a flash, tugging it off my head and tossing it across the room, ignoring the fact I was glaring and on the verge of smacking her. "Come on—I brought you clothes. You've gotta dress like a guardian today and it's the best I could do on short notice.

My eyes followed her as she walked over to the closet; she'd hung up and outfit on the back of the door, a black jacket and pair of pants along with a plain white shirt. I eyed it skeptically, already knowing it wouldn't fit. "Are those your clothes? Roza... the pants won't fit. You're shorter than me."

"By what, two inches? Look I already thought of that—these will cover up the fact the pants don't reach your ankles." She scooped up a pair of calf high black leather boots that were on the floor by the outfit, tossing them on the bed.

I glanced down at her feet and signed. "Those won't fit either."

"So wear em without socks. You'll have to deal with it—this is more important than comfort." She started rooting around in my dresser, pulling out a bra and panties then turned to glare at me. "Viktoria! Get the hell up!"

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed, snatching the undergarments from her hand as I stormed past her, heading for the bathroom—and yes I will admit I was calling her a few dirty names under my breath in my native tongue.

"No time to shower—"

"I realize that—but I _have_ to use the bathroom!" I slammed the door in her face, grumbling under my breath.

"Well do it fast—Liss wants to talk to you before the session starts."

I felt like shouting back that I didn't particularly care _what_ Lissa wanted, but somehow I managed to refrain. After taking care of my bathroom needs I took a moment to wash my face and rub myself down with a wet cloth, then slipped on my underwear and jerked open the door. "Perhaps if she had told me last night—"

"She didn't know until this morning. One of the council members called to let her know they wouldn't be attending the party—he's going on vacation and leaving tonight, so she wanted to get it handled before he took off."

Grabbing the pants I slid them on, only to groan when they got stuck around my hips. "See? I told you—they won't fit."

"What the hell are they doing at Saint Basil's—giving you steroids or something? We were almost the same size before." Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion as she reached out, poking my arm. "And you weren't this muscular, either."

"Don't be stupid—I just hit another growth spurt."

"Bullshit—"

"I did! Mama thinks it's because I was a late bloomer." I didn't mention the fact it had worried my mother immensely; both of my sisters had starter their periods early, but mine hadn't hit until I was fifteen. She'd been on the verge of taking me to the doctor, convinced something was wrong until Yeva spoke up and told her to stop fretting—that nature was a random thing; she'd been almost sixteen when hers had hit, which set mama's mind at ease. I think that was the first time my grandmother suspected that I shared her gift, though unlike her, I don't see it as a blessing from above—to me it's a horrible, horrible curse.

I finally got the pants up and fastened—but they were so tight I could barely breathe. The shirt and jacket were at least a little better; they were snug across my shoulders and hit above my wrists, but it wasn't terribly noticeable. Sinking down on the side of the bed to shove my feet into the boots, I tried to ignore the disturbing sound of protest the seams of the pants made when I moved. "I swear before God above if these pants rip in front of everyone I will kill you Roza."

"They'll be fine—besides, it won't take very long then you can come home and change."

"Ha! You're assuming I can actually make it out the door." I stood up, wincing as my toes curled against the front of the boots. "I'm going to be hobbling worse than Yeva does."

"That won't matter—trust me, they're not going to be paying any attention when you walk in. Just stand up as straight as you can when you're talking to them and look them all in the eye at least once or twice."

My stomach lurched at the thought of speaking in front of an audience, taking my mind off my already aching feet. "I don't know if I can do this..."

It came out a whisper, but she heard it and shot me a reassuring smile as she herded me towards the door. "Sure you can—and if looking them in the face is too hard, just focus on the bridge of their noses... you know—right between their eyes. That's what Lissa use to do until she got comfortable talking in public. Now come on—we don't have time to screw around with hair and makeup. Pull it up in a ponytail and that'll have to do."

I scraped my hair back as we walked, using the tie she handed me. There were a few strands of hair attached to it the same color as my own which meant it must be one of my brother's that she carried in case he needed it. I secured my tangled mess of hair low at the base of my neck—hopefully hiding any sign that the blazer seams were pulled taut across my back. "How long will this take?"

"Depends. She's gonna talk about a couple other things first so you can see how it works. We're meeting her at her office first so she can go over things with you."

I was relieved to see a car idling at the curb waiting for use; there was no way I'd be able to walk all over court in her boots without getting painful blisters. It was the same vehicle that picked us up at the airport, still holding the faintest trace of Abe's spicy, exotic smelling cologne. "Is your father coming too?"

"Nah." She slumped down in the seat, gazing out the window, scowling in irritation that we hadn't begun to move. "He's gonna be finalizing crap for the party all day with Sparky so he said we could use it this morning. I don't know if I like the two of them spending so much time together—just seems like trouble in the making. Anyway this is better than anything the motor pool would have given us. They seem to share your brother's strange obsession with Hondas."

We lapsed into silence as the car made its way through the narrow, twisting streets. It was a short trip, but I spent every minute of it fretting. I like to think of myself as outgoing, but I'm not the type of person who enjoys speaking in front of a group; in fact, I go out of my way to avoid it at all costs—to the point of purposefully getting in trouble in class so I'd be sent out for discipline on the days my instructors announce we'll be taking turns reading aloud from our text books. The more I thought about talking to the Council, the more nauseated I got.

The car pulled over to drop us off beside the large stone building that housed Lissa's office; as we climbed out of the backseat and hurried up the steps, Roza glanced over at me, her forehead wrinkled with concern. "You're looking a little green... you're not gonna puke, are you?"

"That... is a very real possibility." I swallowed once, then again, extremely glad I hadn't eaten yet. "I don't like talking in front of people—I never have."

"Just pretend its a party and you're the center of attention." she made a left as the wide central corridor branched off into several different directions, turning down a long narrow hallway that had several guardians lining both sides, standing at attention. "I seem to recall you enjoyed that."

"Very funny—I don't understand why you can't just tell them what I said."

"Because that is considered hearsay. You've been there and witnessed it first hand—I haven't." She pushed open a set of double doors, leading me into an opulently furnished waiting room. A Moroi woman in her late thirties sat behind a small desk at the far wall near another set of doors; two guardians wearing black blazers with the Dragomir family crest embroidered on the right lapel of their jackets stood on either side of the doors, watching us intently. Roza noticed me studying them and smiled,. " They're part of the Royal Guard. The former queen had them wear red buttons on their collars, but Lissa thought they deserved a little more recognition."

"Guardian Hathaway—and...?" The secretary set down her file, fixing her steely gray eyes on me.

"Viktoria Belikova." I supplied, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"You can go right in... she's expecting you."

"Of course she is—she's the one who sent me to get her." Rolling her eyes, Roza nodded to the guardians, pushing open the door that led to Lissa's inner sanctum and waving me inside. As I passed she dropped her voice to a whisper, her lips twitching up in amusement. "Just ignore her, she's an uptight bitch."

"Rose! I heard that—behave!"

For the first time since meeting her, Lissa actually looked the way I'd expected a queen to look—well... except for the mock scowl she was shooting at her best friend. Her pale hair was twisted up in an elaborate up do, with a delicate looking tiara of emeralds and diamonds nested amidst the curls. Instead of the jeans I'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, today she was wearing a beautiful pale sheath dress in a shade of jade green that was almost the same color as her eyes. I was also pleased to note that she was still wearing Oksa's present—the pendant lay against her skin a few inches above the dresses neckline.

"You look... amazing. Very... Queen-like." I blushed at how stupid I sounded, but in truth I was feeling a little in awe of her.

"Thank you Vika. I'm sorry to spring this on you at the last minute but when Alexander said he was leaving town I knew it couldn't wait. I want to get the ball rolling immediately which means it has to be resolved before he leaves Court." She came around the desk and took my hand, studying my face. "You don't look so good... are you feeling ill?"

"It's nerves... I don't like public speaking." Even now I could feel my palm grow clammy in her hand.

"Well... I bet I can help with that. Rose?"

"Lissa... I don't think you should—"

"Stop worrying! It won't take much." She held out her hand, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Sighing, Roza pulled a ring out of her pocket, frowning as she handed it over." Might not work—it's already charmed."

"Charmed to heal—and she feels sick, so that will help. I'm just going to add a hint of compulsion to soothe her nerves and make her feel confident."

Lissa—don't! I'll be fine, there's no need—"

My voice trailed off—I could tell that it was already too late for me to stop her. It was something I'd only noticed recently—the more frequently my visions came, the stronger my senses grew too. My skin began to crawl—like an army of tiny ants were marching across it—and the air pressure around us seemed to fluctuate as well, growing heavier with each second that passed; it was the same feeling I'd gotten when Oksana pulled Spirit to heal a cut on my hand... and the same feeling I'd gotten the day before when Lissa had tried to get in my head. My reaction to their element came and went—the healing worked fine, and I could feel the calming sensations... but yet their compulsion seemed to have no effect on me. It made me wonder how long it would last—as I aged and the sight grew stronger, would it eventually render me immune to the element entirely? If my grandmother took sick while we were here, could Lissa heal her, or would an attempt be completely in vain?

A surge of guilt hit me at her using her power to help me; I knew whatever she was doing to the ring would do me absolutely no good. Biting my lip I took the ring, faking a sigh of relief as it slid on my finger; I felt nothing at all other than the touch of cool metal against my skin, but I'd do my best to hide that fact away and act completely calm. "Thank you—I appreciate it... but you shouldn't have—"

"I get enough of that from her, don't you start it too." She waved off my concerns, perching herself on the arm of one of the chairs that sat facing her large desk. "I wanted to take a few minutes to let you know what to expect. There's a lot of pomp and ceremony that's absolutely ridiculous, but some things are custom and can't be changed. The herald will call the meeting to order and then I will begin the session. We'll be discussing two items from our last meeting and voting on their outcome, then that's when I'll bring up the issue at Saint Basil's. I'll tell them we have someone with firsthand knowledge to provide us with insight and introduce you—that's when you'll come forward to address them."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of being the focal point of the Council's attention. "And that's it?"

"They may have a few questions—just answer them honestly, with as much information as you can." She glanced down at her watch, frowning. "I have a bit more to do here before we start. I'll have someone escort you over so you can get in before it gets too crowded. It fills up pretty fast when we have open sessions."

"But—I thought it would just be you and the members of the Council?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Even a meeting called at the last minute will have an audience—the Council members will have alerted their families, wanting them to witness what happens and to support them if need be."

I tried to swallow past the lump forming in my throat as she crossed back over to her desk and picked up the phone, asking for a guardians to be sent in. While we waited I focused on my breathing, mentally counting to a hundred in my mind while Roza and Lissa bickered good naturedly over the movie we'd watched together. The entire time Lissa flipped through a file, making notes and crossing out things; it amazed me how she could be so focused on her work but never miss a beat of the conversation.

A wave of relief washed over me when there was a knock at the door my escort entered; I made a hasty exit, finally able to let the mask of feigned calm I was wearing fade away. The man didn't bother to introduce himself and barely even glanced at me; in fact he didn't at all as we walked the two blocks to the government building—not even when I tried to make polite conversation. His demeanor made me wonder if he thought escorting me was beneath him.

"Sir—if you could please slow down... I'm having trouble keeping up."

He didn't even pause—in fact I would swear he sped up a little. I cursed him under my breath in Russian as I struggled to match his pace, then added in a few choice words towards Roza and her stupid boots; glaring at the back of his head I was tempted to ask if he was this rude to everyone or was his superior attitude limited to me, but I refrained. There was a bright side to the situation, however—I was so irritated that I forgot about my nerves, right up until we reached the room in which the meeting would take place.

The decor hit me first—so ostentatious it was almost gaudy; it seemed overdone and too elaborate for something as simple as a meeting place. At one end of the room there was a raised dais holding a large table with carved embellishments representing each of the Royal families; there were thirteen plush, ornate looking chairs spaced evenly along it's length. At the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais was a door through which I assumed the Council would enter, and beside that a small, spindly looking desk stacked with pads of paper and pens. As I watched a young Moroi woman gathered the items up and climbed the steps, preparing the table for what was to come.

The other side of the room was full padded chairs too—there was a scattering of Moroi seated, talking amongst themselves like it was some kind of social outing and not a meeting at all. There were several empty seats available but I wanted one close up—the less distance I had to walk meant the less likely I was to trip and embarrass myself in front of the room full of strangers. I made my way over to the last free seat in the front row. only to be stopped by the woman seated next to it, who placed her arm over the chair and glared at me with eyes full of scorn.

"Are you new? Dhampirs stand at the back."

I glanced at the back of the room, noticing for the first time a number of guardians lining the wall. "I am not a guardian, madam."

"Did I say guardians—or did I say dhampirs?" She said the word like it left a foul taste on her tongue, practically sneering at me.

My hands clenched in anger at her attitude—but still I tried to remain calm. " I really don't care what you said—"

"Is there a problem here?"

I glanced up to see the Moroi who'd been preparing the room standing a few feet away, glancing between us with a look of concern on her face.

"I am supposed to speak today, but this... _woman_ refuses to let me sit." I made the word as unpleasant sounding as she had made the word dhampir, but I smiled sweetly as I said it.

"Oh, you're Novice Belikova? I saw your name on the schedule. I tell you what... why don't you sit at my desk—I'm sure the atmosphere will be much more pleasant and I won't be sitting down once the meeting starts." She shot a reproachful look at the woman who was glaring at me. "She's a guest of the Queen so you'd best mind your manners Marcella."

The chastising tone in her voice didn't faze the woman; she made a dismissive sound, turning in her chair to present me with her back—like I was something contagious and she didn't want to catch my germs. I ignored her, thanking the other woman for her kindness, then settled myself behind her small desk, staring down at my hands. Such rude behavior gave me something to occupy my mind with; I rose to my feet when the Council and Lissa entered, but once the herald called the meeting to order, I stopped paying attention. My eyes darted around the room, fastening on the dhampirs; not all of them were guardians, and yet still... they stood. I was the only dhampir seated in the room and the segregation troubled me greatly—perhaps because I'd never been exposed to it so blatantly before; at Saint Basil's during formal assemblies the first few rows were reserved for Royals, but the dhampirs were welcome to sit anywhere else they pleased. It was beyond my understanding how anyone could stand for such treatment; I wondered how my brother and his girlfriend could watch our people treated so poorly and simply hold their tongues. Maybe as Guardians they were used to it—since they have to stand and watch over their charges all day long, but even so... it didn't seem fair.

The longer I sat there and thought about it, the more my temper stirred; I struggled to keep my face expressionless and not give hint to the contemptuous thoughts I was feeling towards the men and women I would soon face. They had the power to make things right—but as far as they were concerned we were meaningless creatures who lived simply to serve. They saw us as expendable—nothing more than cannon fodder, good for one thing and one thing alone—to keep their precious Royal bloodlines safe and secure, often at the cost of our lives. It wasn't a good time for me to be thinking such things; I could feel the rebellious streak in me that had lay dormant since my brother came home slowly stirring to life, and that was definitely not a good thing. Despite my anger, I didn't want to humiliate my brother or dishonor my family name.

"Novice Belikova? You have the floor."

I glanced up, startled, my cheeks blushing bright red; it was obvious from the concerned look on Lissa's face that it wasn't the first time she'd called me. Standing I made my way to the center of the room, trying to center my thoughts on the task that was before me—everything else could wait.

"My name is Viktoria Belikova, and I am a senior novice at Saint Basil's Academy in Russia. The Queen has asked me to speak today about the problem I have witnessed at my school. It is a problem that affects us all... Moroi and dhampir alike—but it is a problem that the members of this council can easily fix." My voice was thin and weak, so I took a deep breath, refusing to let my nerves reawaken; I ignored my racing heart and sent up a silent prayer that I'd find the right words to say.

"Here in America, you are very, very blessed. You have the sanctuary of Court to reside in, or you can afford to ward your homes and communities and have them properly guarded. That is not the case in my homeland—and as a result, many lives are lost every day. We are not as fortunate as you are, and there are more Strigoi in Russia than there are here in the States. They band together, attacking the furthest settlements, killing the few men and women who stay on to protect the villages. Saint Basil's is full of the casualties of these attacks—orphans who have lost their parents and essentially become wards of the Crown when no family members step forward to claim them. These students live there year round without anyone providing for them—and as a result their clothing is worn and badly in need of repair. They do not have access to all the equipment needed to train, and they have no form of allowance to provide them any small necessities."

"I don't see what this has to do with us." An older Moroi man with silvery hair gave me a dismissive look, shuffled the papers before him.

"It has everything to do with you, sir, and with every other Royal that is residing here at Court. You attend lavish banquets where food goes to waste. You have the means to support yourselves, and yet you rely on the Crown to provide housing and cover the expenses of running them. That money should be going to help the ones that really need it—the children you've abandoned and refuse to acknowledge or support."

"I beg your pardon! I have no—"

"The girl is right." A dark haired woman spoke up, silencing the man with a glance. "My niece is at Saint Basil's and I have seen these things, but I was unaware the children were wards of the Court and not being cared for. I thought perhaps their families just didn't have the means to support them."

"Evette—we cannot be responsible for every child orphaned by an attack. It would bankrupt our government within a year." He turned back towards me, shaking his head. "As for the Crown supporting us—we pay taxes and dues you don't know of young lady, so it would be best if you don't reference things that don't concern you."

"When Ekaterina Zeklos was Queen the children were provided for. She set up a Trust for their clothing and their school materials, as well as a small allowance—and all the Royal families were required to contribute. What happened to that money, Prince Zeklos?"

I hadn't known my grandmother was there until her voice rang out from the back of the room. She moved up beside me, staring the man down with a furious look on her face. "The Queen's fund stipulated that _all_ were to be provided for—Moroi and dhampir alike. Now it is just the Moroi who receive the courts aid... and we want to know where that money has gone. Our children are training to die to protect you—but yet you hold back the means to help them live."

"I agree. I think we would all like to know the same thing. I know for certain that I've been paying into that Trust yearly—aren't you the executor, Clarence?" The woman's eyes were icy, her face expressing her obvious suspicions.

"I'd have to check my records... I am almost positive Queen Tatiana dissolved that Trust years ago—and I assure you I haven't received any kind of documentation on it or form of notification on deposits since then."

"You aren't going to blame this on Tatiana—I was there when she and Priscilla discussed setting up a similar fund here in the states. She was concerned about the children—she wanted to make sure they had everything they needed to become the best guardians they could be—for all our sakes. Would you want your family protected by a guardian that hadn't been properly trained because they didn't have access to the equipment they needed? If there's money missing then your family is responsible for replacing it—and we owe our thanks to this woman for bringing it to our attention." The dark haired man turned his eyes to my grandmother, nodding respectfully at her. " What is your name, please?"

My grandmother stood even straighter, her head held high—and in that moment, it was easy to forget her age and her small stature; her voice was so full of confidence that she seemed as large and powerful as my brother. "My name is Yeva Anastasia Belikova, Prince Ivashkov. Former Guardian to Vasily Zeklos. One time friend and confidant to Princess Ekaterina Zeklos who later became a most beloved Queen. Even after she took her throne we corresponded—I still have her letters to back up my claims."

Clarence Zeklos' eyes widened, his cheeks turning red—and I suddenly realized where the money had disappeared to. He'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, no two ways about it. "I will look into the matter and if there is a discrepancy... it will be rectified. Thank you for bringing it to our attention ladies."

Lissa narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head. "No—I think it's best that someone else handle this matter. Rufus, I assume you and Alexander have access to Tatiana and Priscilla's personal papers and that sort of thing?"

"I have a few things—but she left the bulk of her personal belongings to Adrian. God only knows what he's done with them—or if he'll even remember receiving them at all." Prince Ivashkov shook his head, his eyes darting behind Lissa to wall at her back—where Roza stood—and for the life of me I couldn't understand the expression on his face; it was almost accusatory, as if it were her fault the papers might be missing. Neither could I understand the way hairs on my arm prickled—a warning that something important was taking place, even if I didn't understand what it might be.

"Alright, I'll ask him to try and find them—I think it would be best if you, Alexander and... Ariana took over the trust. We'll have the Court attorneys handle the necessary paper work and reconvene when he returns from his trip—if that's acceptable to everyone?" Her green eyes were focused on the Zeklos Prince, as if daring him to object. He looked like he was thinking about it, but then he nodded his head. "Very good. Then I believe you are done here ladies—thank you very much for coming today ladies. You are free to go."

Yeva bowed, deeply at the waist, so I copied her actions, doing the same. As I straightened up I noticed the dark haired woman watching me closely. "Miss Belikova... you are related to Guardian Belikov, I assume?"

"Yes Madam, I am his youngest sister."

"My niece will need a guardian soon... and I like that you speak your mind. It's important to stand up for those who are in need. I will be putting in a bid for your service on her behalf upon your graduation." She nodded at me, a faint smile turning up the corner of her thin lips. "Enjoy your stay at court. I hope we'll see you again soon."

I nodded politely, returning her smile, though I knew it would never come to pass. I would not serve—it was forbidden, and in truth I had no desire to spend my life like Roza, trailing after a charge. I moved to turn and follow my grandmother, but at that moment, my head began to ache, the pressure gradually increasing with each beat of my heart; I moved without consciously meaning to, spinning back around to face the Council members—and before I knew it I was speaking, though my voice sounded strangely hollow and far away. "Madam—may I ask... when you look around this room... what do you see?"

She glanced up from the papers in front of her, her blue eyes flicking around the room. "I'm not quite sure what you mean... I see the Queen and my fellow Council members and the audience I suppose."

"Nothing more?" I moved a few steps closer, my eyes intent on her face.

"No... I... why?"

"When I look around this room I see the people who protect you... who give their lives in support of the Moroi... being treated like lesser beings. Even the elderly are forced to stand when there are empty chairs that could seat them. When dhampirs are shown a modicum of respect and admiration for their sacrifices... _that_ is when I will willingly serve and accept a charge. Until that time I must respectfully decline any requests that come my way, even when it is made by such an honorable noblewoman as yourself. I beg you think on what I say, because it will shape the future."

The silence following my statement was heavy and so filled with tension that it could have been sliced with a knife; my grandmother reached out, grabbing my arm, but I refused to be budged—not averting my eyes from the Princess I'd addressed. I watched as her icy eyes assessed me, slowly filling with a look of admiration the likes of which I'd never seen before. They flicked to the back of the room again—then she slowly nodded her head.

"Thank you for your candor, Novice Belikova. I think I'd like to discuss the things you see during your visit among us in greater detail before you return to school—perhaps you will join me for lunch next week? I'll have my secretary set something up."

It would be my pleasure, Madam." I bowed—far more deeply than I had the first time, then finally acknowledged my grandmother tugging at me, following her out of the room. As the large wooden doors closed behind us I faltered, a soft sound of pain escaped me; the pressure in my head was so great I could barely see. There were horrifying things flashing through my mind—images of blood and death that couldn't be unseen. The dark haired woman's body was laid out before me, her life's blood draining away from the gaping wound at her throat; I watched as her beautiful blue eyes dulled, gaze locked on eternity. "Make it stop... please... Grandmother... help me..."

"Take this—right now."

She thrust something into my hands and almost immediately I felt relief; the images faded away as the pain slowly began to subside. The object felt smooth and cool in my palm, so I pressed it against my forehead, sighing in relief as the ache completely vanished. "What is it?"

"It doesn't matter. Oksa made it for me—before she came... I simply suffered." Her voice was full of worry as she gently stroked my cheek. "I thought you'd only received the dreams...when did they start to come to you like this?"

"This is the first...no," I corrected myself, "yesterday the names—they came to me, but there wasn't any pain."

"What did you see granddaughter?"

I opened my eyes, shocked to find the image had faded away so completely that I could barely recall it. "I'm not sure... something about that dark haired woman... but it's… it's gone."

"Ahhh. That is a good thing. It means your dreams will be the stronger of the two—it is the opposite for me. You will have less waking visions, so it will be easier to hide away." She shook her head. "I don't know why it shames you, Vika... it is a great, blessed gift."

"I don't want it... I just want to be normal. Like Roza." I handed her back the talisman, worried over my actions in the meeting. Would someone notice that I hadn't been all there—or would they simply chalk it up to my being outspoken and uncouth?

"Roza—is not normal. She is different, and your brother is too. The Spirit... it touched them. Far too much for far too long" She shoved the item in her pocket, then glanced over at me, shaking her head. "I will ask my new friend to make one for you, but it must be blessed by Spirit."

"No—Lissa can't do it. She isn't strong enough and—"

"The tom cat will do it—I have seen it. Come, I am hungry."

"Tom cat? Grandmother, I think Roza is right. You speak in riddles purposefully at times, don't you?"

"That is for me to know, kotyonok. Now tell me... think very hard... what did you see in the Council chamber?"

I stared at her, puzzled by her question. "The Council and all the people watching—and the dhampirs all having to stand. Was I too outspoken grandmother?"

"No, you were perfect—and it has faded away, just as I had hoped." She patted my cheek again, then threaded her arm through mine, heading down the hallway and out into the cool evening air, mumbling softly under her breath. "Some aren't meant to carry the burden I suppose."

"What does that mean?" I looked down at her frowning, feeling a surge of worry at not understanding her words.

"It means that you have a very different path to walk than most, kotyonok—and soon your feet will be on it. I think perhaps you _will_ serve... though a very different master than the kind I had… and in a very different manner."

"Do you mean that I should accept that woman's offer?"

"Her niece will not be the one. It will be as it was in the old days… two joining together that make a stronger whole. Stop questioning me, I can say nothing more and—"

"Novice Belikova?"

I turned to see a young fair haired guardian hurrying to catch up. "Yes?"

"Guardian Hathaway asked me to tell you that she'll meet you in the cafe two blocks down as soon as the session is dismissed."

I couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice—his accent was familiar as my own and nearly as thick. "Thank you sir. May I inquire what area you call home?"

"Tomsk, Miss Belikova. I attended Saint Basil's like you—I was one of the students you described to the council... the ones who have families but are still in need. On behalf of my family, I thank you."

"I need no thanks—I simply told the truth. It is time the Royals stepped up to help those in need."

"Regardless—should you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask. I am Feliks Anosov."

He held out his hand in introduction; when I gently grasp it to shake it he bowed his head, pressing his lips against it softly, not dropping his eyes from my face. The appreciative look in his eyes made my cheeks flush with color—the blush increasing even more when he moved a step closer, lowering his voice. "I hope to get to know more about you during your stay—Guardian Belikov has been keeping secrets. He never mentioned having such a beautiful sister stashed away at home."

My grandmother made a dismissive snort that drew his blue eyes away from mine. "Or such a wise grandmother."

"He has apparently been keeping may secrets of late—he failed to mention the fact that his fellow guardians spout bullshit so deep one could drown in it. Come Viktoria—we must be off." She gave him a look of disapproval, tugging my arm to free my hand from the young dhampir's grip. "You have delivered your message boy—you may run along now."

"Grandmother! I am so sorry... she isn't usually like this." I apologized, stunned by her rudeness as he took a large step back.

"Lying is a sin, granddaughter—I am always like this and you know it. Now are you coming or should I call your brother to help me make you listen?"

At the mention of my brother the guardian's demeanor changed; the flirtatious look in his eye vanished as he took another step back. " I meant no disrespect Mrs. Belikova—"

"It is _Miss_ Belikova—I have had no husband and do not need one—my name is my own." Yeva stepped between the two of us, tilting her head back to stare up at his face. "If you meant no disrespect then you shouldn't have acted as you did. There is a proper way to compliment a young lady—and it is not by undressing her with your eyes when she is speaking to the Royal council!"

His eyes dropped to the sidewalk as he retreated another step. "My apologies. If you will excuse me—I must return to my duties."

She grabbed my arm again, practically dragging me down the sidewalk, mumbling under her breath about men who couldn't control their eyes. "Grandmother! That was very rude!"

"I agree. No man should stare at a woman that way unless she has made it clear his advances are welcomed—especially not in a formal public setting."

"That's not what I meant! Did you ever stop to think that I might have found him handsome? If you keep this up I'll never meet anyone—and I'd like to have someone to spend time with while I'm here." I jerked my arm free, trying not to pout; I had a hard enough time getting them to treat me like an adult—behaving like a child would only strengthen their belief that I still needed supervision.

"That's what you want? To be some mans plaything for a few weeks and then be sent on your way? If so then by all means go chase after him—but don't come to me crying when he uses you and then forgets your name. You are meant for better Viktoria Belikova—do not sell yourself short."

"That's not what I—"

"Enough! The discussion is over. I said I am hungry child—are you trying to starve me into an early grave?"

"I need to stop off and change first. My feet hurt and—"

"Ridiculous. Look—we are already here. We should go all the way to your apartment, just to come back again? I will go no further—do what you must."

I bit back a sound of frustration; I loved my grandmother and respected her immensely, but Roza was right about one thing—sometimes she could drive a person to their breaking point. I followed her into the crowded cafe, steering her towards a free table; the line was long and I knew what she liked, so there was no point in having her stand with me and risk having her joints and legs pain her later when she was trying to sleep. Shifting from one foot to the other in hopes of relieving the pressure on my feet, I was studying the menu, trying to decide what would best when a hand closed around my arm in an iron grip, jerking me out of line.

"Excuse me!"

"What the hell was that shit you pulled in there?" Roza was furious, her eyes almost black with rage.

I stared at her, taken aback, not sure why she was so angry. "What do you mean? I—"

"You were supposed to talk about one thing. One. Thing. Saint Basil's and what you saw there. That's it! Your little stunt just undid everything Lissa's spent months trying to accomplish!"

"I saw a problem and I—"

"Made threats! Against the heads of the Royal families!"

" I did not! I—"

"That's how they see it. A dhampir threatening not to serve if her demands aren't met. One who's statement might encourage others to do the same! Lissa has been trying to—"

"Well she's not trying hard enough!" My temper flared and I snapped back at her, getting right up in her face. "You saw that room! All of our people being forced to stand—even my grandmother, at her age!"

"It takes time! Even a queen has limits Viktoria—she has to win over the majority of the council and today you erased everything she's been busting her ass to achieve! Jesus—and they say I don't think before speaking!"

"Rose!" I was unaware my brother was there witnessing our fight until he stepped forward grabbing her arm. "Stop. You need to calm down."

She jerked her arm free, scowling up at him before turning her anger back on me. "You don't think I have a hard time keeping quiet about that shit? I wanna explode every time I see it—but I don't because I _see_ how hard she's working to get equal rights for everyone. She's trying to get us a fucking vote Viktoria—and you just torpedoed her out of the water. Good fucking job."

I froze, the enormity of what she was saying slamming into me like a ton of bricks. "I'm sorry... I didn't know... and I... I'm not sure why I spoke up. I kept telling myself to hold my tongue, but once I got up there and that woman said what she did... it just slipped out. Did I really ruin everything?"

My apology seemed to appease her—at least a little. Some of the fire went out of her eyes and she lowered her voice, leaning against Dimitri. "It's going to take a whole lot of double talk and ass kissing to smooth things over. Lissa's not upset with you... she was just taken by surprise. For someone who doesn't like public speaking you got awfully mouthy in there." She looked down at her feet, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry too... it just struck a nerve. I guess hearing you say all the things I've been wanting to say... it pissed me off."

"Maybe... I can fix it. Talk to them at the party and explain I was just speaking for myself and what I believe. Yeva could accompany me... tell them her views about women going into service. It might make them understand a little better."

"Maybe... I'll ask Lissa what she thinks—and Abe. He's an evil mastermind when it comes to political crap." She looked around, frowning, stretching up on her toes to see over a crowd of Moroi that had just come in the door. "Where is Yeva anyway? Did you lose her?"

"No she's right over—" I looked over at the table where I'd left my grandmother, surprised to see she'd been joined by a Moroi woman and was happily sharing a plate with her, chatting away. "there. Who is that woman?"

Roza glanced in the direction I was pointing, letting out a sound of irritation. "Shit. That's Rhonda—the fortune teller. Apparently they hit it off yesterday. God only knows what kind of evil juju they'll be conjuring up."

"My grandmother doesn't practice Voodoo Rose—and neither does Rhonda." Dimitri gave her an amused smile, then winked at me before adding, "you should be much more worried about old gypsy folk curses from those two."

"That's just great—thanks for setting my mind at ease." She rolled her eyes, resting her head against his arm—and again I felt another sharp pang of loneliness, slowly making itself known. "If we're not eating could one of you two go get her? I'd rather not get caught between the two of them—there's only so many obscure predictions I can handle in one week."

"I'll go—you two should get some food. You shouldn't go without eating just because I lost my appetite."

We parted, the two of them moving towards the counter while I weaved my way through the tables, heading for my grandmother and her new friend. "Grandmother—"

"You!" The Moroi woman dropped her fork with a clatter, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. "I've seen you before!"

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure she was addressing me, arching a brow in confusion. "Me? No, I'm sorry... we've never—"

"No—I mean I've _seen _you. When I was doing a reading last week for—"

"Rhosha! What you saw is between the spirits and your client." My grandmother cut her off, laying a hand on her arm. Her dark eyes held a hint of warning that made the other woman nod her head. "To speak of these things would influence the outcome. You know this."

"You're right... I'm sorry. It was just a shock. I've never had that happen to me before." She held out her hand for me to shake and I took it, my curiosity aroused and wondering what she'd seen. "I'm Rhonda. Your grandmother has agreed to teach me a few things while she is here—you're very lucky to have someone so wise guide you, my dear."

"Yes, I am... but if I was in your vision surely you could tell me—"

"She cannot. Now run along. I am going to spend the afternoon with her. Go find someone else to occupy your time—and if your brother argues, tell him to come talk to me." Yeva winked, then a sly smile spread across her face. "But also tell him I said if he disturbs me I will be very, very angry."

I nodded, not bothering to argue; saying my goodbyes I returned to my brother and Roza who were waiting by the door with to go cartons in their hands. "She said she is staying. They apparently have plans."

"Probably world domination. Your grandma might look like a frail lady, but I have a feeling she can hold her own." Roza shoved open the door, holding it so we could pass through.

"She can," my brother said wryly, "and she doesn't fight fair." He reached down, taking her hand, pulling her closer to his side. "So you should be on your best behavior."

I glanced down at their entwined hands, realizing that after the day I'd had, the last thing I wanted to do was be around people in love. "You know what? I just need a little time to myself. You two go on and I'll catch up with you later. Yeva said to tell you it was okay."

My brother frowned, shaking his head. "I don't want you wandering off all alone—you've only been here a few days, you don't know your way around yet."

"And when will I have been here long enough to have a little freedom Dimitri? The day before we leave? I am so tired of everyone treating me like some stupid little kid! Ever since we arrived I've been rushed from place to place—ordered what to do with no regard for how I felt. Do you know how hard it was for me to stand up in front of those men and women and talk off the top of my head? No one warned me... I wasn't given time to prepare. I was woken from a sound sleep and shoved into clothes and hustled out the door before I was even fully awake! Then I had harsh words with Yeva—and now the fight with Roza… it seems like every time I turn around today something else happens to knock me off my feet! I cannot take this frantic pace… it is just too much!" I bit my lip, realizing I was on the verge of shouting—something that would be extremely embarrassing for all of us since we were standing out in the open for anyone to see. "Dimka... I just need some time to unwind—the way I use to do, remember?"

"There's no meadow here for you to hide away in kotyonok. No wildflowers to gather and weave into your hair." His face softened, his large hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek.

"I just want to be outside for a while. Alone—so I can think."

He studied me in silence for a moment, his brow wrinkling, then slowly nodded his head. "One hour—no more. There are things planned for this afternoon—and I'm sorry, but you cannot be late. When it is time, one of us will come collect you. " He pulled a book out of the pocket of his coat, removing a scrap of paper that was tucked away between the pages to mark his place. "There is a small garden close to the building where you are staying—it should be secluded enough for your purpose. I will draw you a map so you don't get lost—but Vika, please do not wander off and make us hunt you down."

"I'll stay right where you tell me—I promise." I watched him sketch out the drawing, patiently listening as he gave me extremely detailed directions to the spot he had in mind. I even went so far as to repeat them back word for word so he would know that I'd been listening then I raised up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, but it still wasn't enough—he had to bend down to meet me halfway. "Thank you Dimka. I will see you soon."

"I hope you find the peace you need, sister. And Vika... I am very, very proud of you. You may not have had time to prepare, but you did an excellent job."

"But... you weren't there... how do you know _what _I said?"

His lips twitched but his face remained stoic, a dark brow raising as he looked down at me. "I have my ways."

"Oh cut the crap!" Roza elbowed him in the side, rolling her eyes. "He asked me to call him when it was your turn to talk so he could hear it over the phone."

"You'll pay for that, Roza. I have to have some secrets from her, otherwise she will stop looking up to me."

"Dimitri... everyone looks up to you—they can't help it. I mean... you're a giant."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, ducking his head down to whisper something that made her bury her face in his chest as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

I watched for a moment as he coaxed her out of what remained of her prickly mood , amazed that a few sweet words and kisses could do so much, then I slowly backed away, shaking my head and making a noise of disgust. "I don't even want to know. I am going now—there is only so much I can take of seeing you two acting like lovebirds before I get sick." They didn't look up—I'd even go far as to bet that neither one of them even heard me. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't even notice when I turned and walked away, leaving them alone in their little cocoon of happiness.

It wasn't difficult to find the spot I was looking for—Dimka's instructions had been so precise there had been no chance of getting lost—but as I stared up at the tall hedge he had used as a landmark, I wondered exactly how I was supposed to enter it since there was no entrance in sight and he didn't mention having to search for one. I trailed my fingers along its leaves as walked around the outside searching for an opening; the idea of having somewhere to hide away that was almost inaccessible... it awoke the little girl I used to be, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. I finally found a break in the greenery, so narrow that the branches snagged my hair as I entered—but I was too delighted by the small oasis in front of me to even take time to try and untangle it. Jerking my head to free myself, I let my eyes dart around the garden, anxious to explore. It wasn't very big—just a few raised beds of flowers lining the inside of the hedge, circling a large statue and stone bench—but for me it was just what I needed, the perfect place to spend an hour of quiet contemplation. As curious as I was to examine everything my new sanctuary had to offer, there was something I had to do first. I crossed to the bench, sinking down to yank off Roza's accursed small boots—sighing with relief at _finally_ being able to uncurl my poor aching toes.

Leaning back, I stretched my legs out in front of me; My eyes drifted closed as I just sat and enjoyed the silence for a while. The tall hedge muffled the sound coming from the busy area nearby, so I could finally actually have some quiet time to myself without someone pounding at the door or Mama calling to check up on me. I told myself I would have to remember to thank my brother for suggesting such a perfect place—and for not arguing with me when I demanded some time away. If it had been one of my sisters they would have hounded me with questions or insisted upon accompanying me—but that was not Dimitri's way. He understood my need to be alone at times, perhaps because he felt it just as strongly as I did. Thinking about his silent acceptance and the way he'd referenced the meadow, my mind inevitably began drifting, conjuring up memories of the past.

When I was a very small girl—just barely old enough to toddle about on my own, I could always sense the tension that filled our home whenever our father came to visit; it made me irritable and fussy—which was never a good thing to be in his presence. My father often said that children should be seen and never heard—and he had no qualms about using violence to silence a child he thought was misbehaving; that was something my older siblings knew far, far too well. Whenever I began to act up, my brother would always scoop me up—immediately hurrying to the back door with my sisters following close behind. The four of us would cross the yard, weaving our way through a small strand of trees to the safety of the meadow. It was a place where we could run and play, being as loud as we wanted—and it was far enough from the house that the sound didn't carry, so we didn't need to fear a slap to remind us of our place.

My brother would watch over us, his long, lean body stretched out beneath a tree; if you glanced at him you would imagine he was totally immersed in his book, oblivious to the world around him—but you would be mistaken. If you watched him for long enough you would notice the way his dark eyes flicked up from the page every few minutes, darting around the clearing—always alert—looking for signs of danger. That wasn't the case for the rest of us; Karo, Sonya and I were too intent on our task to worry about anything other than avoiding the honey bees that flocked around the wild flowers we gathered. We would sit for hours weaving chains and crowns—sometimes even ganging up on Dimka and adorning him with our creations. He protested but always went along in the end, perhaps to take our minds off what was happening back at home. I didn't understand back then that our meadow time was their way of protecting me. You see—to a small, small child, all that mattered was the fact we were having fun. Eventually when I tired we would head home—with me falling asleep in Dimka's arms along the way. He would carry me up to bed, tucking me in; when I awoke in the morning my father—and the danger he represented—would be long gone.

I think those trips to the meadow were what made me so fond of flowers; as I grew older, the interest didn't fade—even now when I feel anxious or upset, being around them has a calming effect on me. Just sitting in the silence and breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers that surrounded me, I could feel the tension that had been filling me all day slowly fade away. Opening my eyes I let them drift over the beds, mentally comparing them to the ones I'd seen scattered throughout court; the other gardens were lovely, but there was something about them that bothered me immensely. They were all so obviously planned out—each flower planted in a precise, specific place, according to someone's master plan. Immaculately maintained and creatively designed, they were almost _too_ perfect, their organization and structure somehow detracting from the natural beauty of the flowers. The little garden... was different. The flowers were laid out with no particular scheme, as if the gardeners had simply stuck what they wanted wherever the mood struck them to plant it; it was wild and unpredictable—like nature itself—and because of that, I thought it was one of the most beautiful gardens I had ever seen.

In addition to the haphazard layout, the plants themselves weren't ones that would normally be grouped together; there were no tiny border plants like petunias or stone moss, or an overabundance of larkspur and ivy like the more formal gardens had. Instead there were creamy white lilies with bright colored sunflowers and blood red roses—more roses than I'd ever seen growing in one place before. The way all the different colored plants were scattered about with no consideration for size or shape reminded me of a post—Impressionist painting I'd once seen at a museum in Saint Petersburg. The splashes of paint had been so vivid that it took a moment to move past the colors and shapes of the stylized petals of the flowers to really see the art for what it was—a man trying to exorcise his demons by spreading them out on canvas.

Wiggling my toes in the thick, lush grass, my eyes turned to the statue; the woman it represented was no one I recognized, though something about her seemed hauntingly familiar. The carved face was stern, yet somehow regal—and as silly as it sounds, I felt like those cold stone eyes were staring straight at me, full of disapproval for removing my shoes in its presence.

"They're too small—they pinch my feet terribly," I whispered—then laughed softly at my own foolishness in talking to a slab of stone. Still... somehow it soothed me the same way the garden did, and I realized that perhaps what I'd needed hadn't been time alone, but rather someone I could talk to freely—without fear of how they might react to the things I had to say. Who better to unload my problems to than an inanimate object that couldn't judge me or argue, telling me I was wrong?

"I hope you don't mind if I share your garden for a while... I needed a place to put my thoughts in order... away from my family." I stood up, moving closer so I could read the inscription on the brass plaque on the base of the statue, wanting to know whom it was that I was talking to.

_Dedicated in memory of Queen Tatiana Marina Ivashkov by her beloved nephew_

_She gave her life for her people out of love, yet was only truly loved by one in return._

_I'll look for you in my dreams—so you'd better be there waiting for me, Auntie._

Beneath the dedication sat a small urn filled with flowers that had long since died; most of the petals were so dried out and brittle they had broken off the stems, littering the ground beneath it. Reaching down I pulled them out, setting them to the side. "I think perhaps these should be replaced, don't you agree your Majesty? It would never do to have your nephew come to visit and find that people aren't taking care of your monument properly."

Had I been in one of the other gardens, gathering a small bouquet would be a simple task; they were filled with a variety of different kind of flowers that would make a proper offering. But here there were only the three kinds of blooms, and none of them would really do. I eyed the lilies but couldn't bring myself to touch them; I was raised in a religious home with a strong belief in the symbols of the Church. Lilies represented the Virgin Mother, so to pluck them from their stems would be almost sacrilegious...not to mention I knew the plants were somewhat toxic—and I really didn't want a painful rash on my hands when I went to the Queen's party.

Instead I reached out for one of the fragrant roses; they were the largest I'd ever seen, their blooms so full that it was a wonder their stems had the strength to support them. I looked for the safest place to touch, but as my hand closed around the stem a prickle of unease tickled the back of my neck. I tried my best to ignore it—and as a reward I learned the hard way that it wasn't just their blossoms that were so extraordinary large. I jerked my hand back, cursing at the pain; the thorn imbedded in my palm was huge—almost as long as my thumb—and yet somehow I hadn't noticed it when I'd examined the plant. "Okay... no roses either."

I glanced at the remaining flowers—which seemed almost out of place; unlike the graceful lilies or the beautiful roses, the sunflowers were tall and plain—a strange thing for someone to plant in honor of a Queen. Rising up on spindly stalks, their brightly colored heads were drooping on the stems, but unlike the roses, it wasn't due to their size—it was just the nature of the plant. When the sun came up they would lift their faces, turning towards it and following as it moved across the sky, casting their shadows over all the other plants until it was time to sleep again—and then I realized they were actually the most perfect choice of all. In her own way the former Queen had been like the sun itself, her subjects always looking up to her, basking in her presence the same way the flowers did.

As I gathered a handful, gently snapping the stems the way Mark had taught me in his garden back home, the prickly spines along the main stalk scraped my palms—but compared to the painful, throbbing wound delivered by the rose, this was only a mild irritation. My comparison of the two flowers made me smile as I realized something else—they were a lot like Roza and me. She is very beautiful where I am somewhat plain, and she is much more dangerous too—I may be prickly at times, but I rarely leave a wound.

I returned to the foot of the statue, depositing the flowers I'd gathered in the vase and sank down on my knees to try and arrange them in a way that pleased the eye, but sadly enough, my artistic talent is absolutely slim to none. The end result was a lopsided mess that looked like it had been done by a five year old—but at least I had made an effort. "I am sorry it's not very pretty your Majesty—but it is better than nothing, I think. Besides, I am sure when your nephew comes he will replace them with something far nicer anyway."

"Ahhh—there now, do you see what happens when I leave you to your own devices? You start talking to yourself out of loneliness."

I glanced up, startled, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. "For your information, I happen to be talking to the Queen."

"Impossible, kotyonok—I know she has good hearing, but she is all the way at the spa with Mama and Roza, waiting for me to come fetch you."

"Now you are just being silly Dimka. I didn't mean Lissa at all—I meant Queen Tatiana." I nodded at the statue, grinning. "She is a very good listener—the kind that doesn't have much to say."

Dimitri moved closer, his eyes darting around the small enclosed area before ducking his head down to read the inscription engraved on the plaque. I watched as his eyes narrowed and his full lips pursed, wondering what it was that had upset him, but before I could ask he reached down to take my arm, gently tugging me up to my feet. "Be that as it may—we have to go. Unless you don't want to join the others in primping for tomorrow night?"

"But you said I had an hour! It hasn't been nearly that long!"

"You're quite right—it's been almost two. I gave you a little extra time so you wouldn't have to hear Roza and Lissa bickering back and forth about what beauty treatments everyone should get. Now put on your boots and stop pouting—you know that I can't bear seeing you look unhappy."

I frowned, shoving my feet back in the boots, wondering how I'd lost track of so much time. It seemed impossible that I'd sat daydreaming for that long, but I knew my brother wouldn't lie about it. I followed after him, but as I approached the entrance, I doubled back, scooping up the dead flowers that were still scattered out on the ground, calling back over my shoulder to him. "I don't want to leave a mess behind... it would be disrespectful. Just a minute more, please."

Looking up at the statue, I battled with myself for a moment, wanting to pay a final respect, but at the same time afraid my older brother would find the gesture foolish. My desire to do what I felt was right won out, overriding my sense of pride; I bowed low to the statue, the same way I had to the council, murmuring a soft thank you to the Queen for letting me use her special space, then turned to hurry and catch up with my brother who was watching me with a look of astonishment on his face. "That was very nice of you Vika."

Strangely enough, the heavy sense of disapproval I'd felt when I first looked up at the statue was gone; I glanced back over my shoulder at it, chastising myself for being childish and silly—but still I had the eerie sense that the statue approved of my actions. "What? I should have left them scattered across the grass? Come on Dimka... give me a little credit."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You act as though you never leave a mess, little sister. Remember I was home a short while back—I saw the trail of things you left behind you from the door to your room."

"This is... different." He was right—I can be messy at times, not that I'd admit it.

"About that garden... It is relatively new. I was unaware it was a private one. I think perhaps it would be best if you did not visit it again."

I glanced up at him, puzzled by the way his brow was wrinkled. There was an expression of concern on his face that I didn't understand—as if there was something else bothering him about the garden that he didn't want to mention. "I did no harm, Dimka—I only sat and enjoyed the quiet. Besides, you must be mistaken," I held out my hand for him to see the large puncture on my palm, wanting to prove my point, "for a rose to have thorns so large they must be several years old."

He muttered something under his breath in Russian, forgetting for a moment that it wasn't Roza by his side but rather was someone who understood the language. "Unless someone specifically made them grow that way."

Thinking about the prickling unease I'd felt before I touched the rose, I immediately realized what he meant. "Spirit? Did Lissa make them grow? Is that what has you acting like a worry wart—thinking about Roza finding out Lissa has been using Spirit when she isn't supposed to?"

He seemed startled, either from realizing he had mistakenly spoken aloud or by my question. "What do you know about that?"

"I know Spirit can help plants and flowers—sometimes when a plant in Mark's garden is dying, Oksa practices on it." I shrugged, dumping the dead flowers in a trash bin as we passed it. "She's been trying different things—researching old tales. I think she knows how worried Roza is about Lissa now that their bond is gone... she's trying to find something that might help. I know Lissa gets a little... unhinged. She did yesterday when we were shopping and I saw it with my own two eyes."

"I see."

We walked in silence for so long that I though he was done with the subject—but I really should have known better. My brother is very tenacious when something is on his mind. Be that as it may, I don't want you returning there." He looked down at me, his eyes narrowed; I could tell by his tone that he wouldn't budge on the issue. "It is a place for the family to mourn in private. Do you understand?"

"Yes... I understand."

What I didn't bother to explain was that I understood any visits to the spot would have to be in secret—because no matter what he said, I _would _be going back. Even now, something about the little hidden garden called to me, like a siren song I couldn't refuse—and not even my love for my brother would keep me from answering its call.

I won't bore you with the details of our trip to the spa—other than to say Roza had a change of clothing waiting for me and a pair of comfortable shoes, her way of making up to me for what had happened between us, I think. It was a wonderful experience being pampered and groomed—but I never imagined such things could be so tiring. We all had facials and massages—manicures and pedicures to boot—and I had my hair cut and styled in a new way that frames my face in long, wispy layers. It is still very long, but now it has a nice shape so my waves will be less likely to frizz when the weather is hot and humid.

The most interesting part of the afternoon was meeting Rhonda's nephew Ambrose. He was very handsome and flirtatious, but I didn't mind since he acted that way with everyone—he even wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Mama as he rubbed her feet. I think that after so much pampering everyone was totally relaxes and anxiety free... _except _for me. Despite the massage I was tense and on edge, and I had the weirdest feeling I'd forgotten something important; it was like trying to remember a song lyric and having it slip away right when it was on the tip of the tongue, frustrating me more and more with every second that passed.

And to top it all off... when I got home I discovered my dress _still _had not been delivered—and the party is tomorrow! I have the horrible feeling that something will happen and I'll be stuck wearing the dress I brought from Baia, looking totally out of place—and that's something I just couldn't bear. It may be petty of me, but just this one time I want to be the one who stands out in the crowd; I want to see admiration in the eyes of the men I meet, not just because they think I'm a piece of meat but because they look at me and see something special. I suppose I need to prove to myself that I'm better than the girl I was when Roza met me, not willing to settle for less than I deserve.

It wasn't until I climbed into bed and turned out the light that I realized I had forgotten something else too—and so had my entire family. "Happy birthday Vika," I murmured to myself, determined not to let my emotions get the best of me. I fought against stupid, childish tears, trying to distract myself with thoughts of happy things.

It didn't work.

I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

_**A/N **__Okay, this turned into a monster. Again not proofed because I add when I edit and at 13,293... this sucker is long enough._ I'll try to proof it in the next couple of days—posting it first means I can't add, I can only fix... so there is a method to my madness. ;o)

_I have received several pms with the same subject matter on a couple things and I wanted to answer them here so I don't have to send out the same answer over and over again._

_1)__**When do we see Adrian?**__: Next chapter… and it is a goooood one._

_2)__**What does **__**kotyonok mean?**__: It has several meanings but when the Belikov's use it they are calling Vika 'kitten'._

_3)__**Your dialogue seems choppy**__.: As someone with family in Russia, I know how my Russian relatives who have learned English as a second language speak; it is rather sing-songy and musical and lilting sounding, and they love making statements ask like questions. This is what the Belikov's—and all native Russian speakers—do in my fics._

_And this wasn't a question but I feel I need to say it to head off any questions. I am aware this chapter is rushed and fast paced, flipping from topic to topic. It is intentional. I am trying to convey how frazzled Vika felt from the moment she woke up until the time she went to bed. She was lambasted nonstop, so in moving this chapter rapidly from one topic to the next I hope I leave the reader with a sense of the frustration and urgency that was riding her._

_Hope you enjoyed it. Next one—with Adrian and Vika's first meeting as seen through her eyes—will be up in the next couple days._


	7. Chapter 7: A Night to Remember

Dear Diary,

_I am stealing a few minutes to record what just happened, but it will be rushed as I must hurry to dress for the ball. My head still aches a bit from the strange dream I had last night; it wasn't one of my prophetic ones, but somehow it left me tired and dazed, just the same. I dreamed about the former queen—maybe because I spent so much time in her garden yesterday. She was stroking my hair the way Mama used to do, with such a sad, tormented look on her face that I wanted to reach out and hug her—not that I would, mind you, I mean... she was a queen. Not one like Lissa, who insists on informality, but the kind that was proper and reserved, wanting everyone to know their place. Still… it made my heart ache to see her so very sad. When I woke up enough to function I ate a quick snack, then spend the rest of the day pacing. I did not leave my apartment at all, waiting impatiently for the delivery of my dress. As the hours passed I became more and more panicked, but finally, late in the afternoon it arrived—along with an assortment of other things that left me completely shocked. _

_I found out what Lissa and Joy were whispering about that day when I modeled the dresses—Lissa had decided the few dressed she had selected were simply not enough, so they'd made note of what looked good and ordered several different colors in each of the styles, along with a few things I hadn't even seen. There are so many that they wouldn't even fit in my tiny closet back home in Baia. It wasn't just me either—mama called up in an uproar, having received such a delivery too. I told her we should leave it until tomorrow to worry about and focus on the most important thing first—the party, tonight._

_When I finally calmed Mama down enough to get her off the phone, I allowed myself the luxury of a long, leisurely bath—but I didn't use any of the fancy bath salts or perfumed bubbles that sat along the back ledge of the tub; instead I used a few drops of ylang-ylang oil—my grandmother had pushed it in my hand yesterday as we left the spa, muttering that it would guarantee an enchanting evening. I am skeptical of that… but we'll soon see._

_I had just finished my bath when someone pounded at my door—it was my grandmother, determined to help me prepare for the evening. She carried a small wooden box in her hands; it was decoratively carved and small enough to easily fit in her palm. When I inquired about it she waved me off, telling me to be patient. I waited while she settled herself on the couch, but my curiosity was overflowing._

"Our family has very few heirlooms—a handful of things that my own grandmother saved and passed down to me from her own mother's mother. She had the sight as well, so she knew what would be needed. One by one I have given them to your siblings… and now it is time for me to pass on that which was meant to be yours."

I eyed the small box, wondering what it might be; this was the first I'd heard of my brother and sisters receiving gifts. "What did the others get?"

"Your sisters received small trinkets for themselves—a brooch for Karolina and a bracelet for Sonya. Dimka—"

"So you're giving me a gift that's not for me?"

"If you would let me finish without interrupting Viktoria, you would learn the answer to that question." She gave me a reproachful look, reaching up to take my hand and tugging me down beside her. "Dimitri was given combs—a gift for the woman who would one day win his heart to wear in the beautiful hair he loves. And for you, granddaughter… a gift for your kotik."

I shot her a reproachful look. "I have no cat and I never will. They won't come near me."

"You will. I have seen him. A tom cat with sable colored fur and brilliant, beautiful eyes… of course you are all too aware that sometimes things aren't always what they appear to be in visions." She held out the box and I took it tentatively, a little unsure of what might be inside. Cracking it open, my chest tightened as tingles raced up my spine—a hint of premonition, though I didn't know why. It was just a plain looking silver ring.

"A ring? For a cat? That makes no sense." I removed it from the box, holding it in my palm; it was heavy, obviously handcrafted—and so big it wouldn't even fit on my thumb. "This is the second time you've mentioned this cat—I don't understand…"

"When the time is right, you will. Now go put it away child, somewhere safe—and bring back your hairbrush. I didn't just come to deliver your gift—I came to help you prepare for tonight."

"But—"

"Always so argumentative! When will you learn to just _listen_ when I speak? Now hurry! We haven't much time and tonight… tonight has the makings of being the kind of night you dream about Vika."

I didn't argue further—it was pointless. With grandmother, there is only one option… and that is to obey. I hurried to the bedroom, burying the box beneath my underwear in the dresser drawer then snatched up my brush, returning to settle myself at her feet. She brushed my hair the way she used to do when I was a child—long, sweeping strokes from the root to the tip, smoothing her hand along my scalp to make sure it didn't tug or snarl and hurt me. Stroke after stroke she brushed, softly humming an old gypsy melody that I remembered her singing from my childhood; it was almost hypnotic, a calming sensation that soothed my nerves about the party and allowed my mind to drift back to the thing that had been puzzling me since we'd arrived.

"Something has been on your mind lately, I can tell. Go ahead and ask whatever it is kotyonok, otherwise I fear you may never stop wondering about it."

I bit my lip, instinctively knowing she wouldn't like the subject matter; just because she had been willing to discuss things yesterday, today things might be different. "I am wondering… why it is you don't approve of us going into service… but you have no problem with Roza being Guardian to the queen."

"Our Roza serves the way dhampirs were meant to. Out of love and a deep desire to protect her Moroi. It is the way things used to be done in the old days… before they started assigning us out to Royals based solely on their rank and wealth."

"Was that how it was for you? Did you serve someone you loved?"

"No. I very much wanted to… but his father knew of our affair and did everything he could to keep me away from his son. Even back then they were picking and choosing where we went, assigning us to the ones they favored. They assigned me to a man closely related to Queen Ekaterina—he was one of those Royals that think dhampir women are good for only one thing. Before a few months were up I despised the ground he walked on, even before he…"

When her voice trailed off, I waited hoping she would continue—but she didn't. "Before he what?"

"He killed the Moroi I loved… your grandfather… right in front of my eyes. I was prostrate with grief, cradling Anton in my arms when he attempted to turn his rage on me as well."

"You defended yourself? Is that why you left service? For striking a Royal Moroi?" I glanced over my shoulder at her, and was stunned by the expression of grief on her face. My grandmother was always stoic, hiding away her emotions so well that no one ever knew what she was thinking, but in that moment… she looked completely shattered, lost in memories of the past.

"Ah, Viktoria… you have no idea what it is to lose the one who holds your heart. I could not move… could not think of anything other than the fact I had lost the one thing in life that mattered." Her voice was soft, her eyes filled with tears that overflowed, streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. "He would have beaten me…forced himself on me I think, if I had not screamed out that I was with child."

"But… why did he kill him?"

"Anton came to me, asking me to be his wife; he was willing to turn his back on his family and follow the path his heart demanded—and together we went to tell Vasily he would need a new Guardian. Because he could not have what he wanted… because I refused to bow to him but would willingly give myself to another… he was enraged. Some Royal men think they can take whatever they want, kotyonok; they refuse to acknowledge or accept the word 'no'. The ones who treat us with respect and decency are rare… at least, they were in my day. Anton was one… I can only think of a handful more that were actually worth the sacrifice dhampirs make for them. Perhaps now things are different, but I look at what happened with Olena…. what happened with Soyna and almost to you as well—" She shook her head, wiping her palm along her cheek to remove the wetness of her tears, "— and I think not much has changed."

"You know about that? What happened with Rolan?" My cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I hid behind my hair.

"Yes. I know I owe Ibrahim a great debt for saving you."

"Roza made him do it… and I was very horrible to her afterwards."

"She has forgiven you, yes? So why dwell on it?" Her hand slid beneath my chin, tipping my head back so I had to look her in the eye. "What I have said here… it remains between us. I do not want your mother to know what happened that day. I do not want her imagining her father burned alive before my eyes. The point of my tale… is that we should only serve where our hearts lead us. The ones we love… close friends and family. Anything else is a travesty."

"What happened to him? The Moroi you served? Did they punish him?"

Her eyes darkened, her face taking on a look of coldness I'd never seen before. "Vasily told them he was defending himself—that Anton attacked him for no reason. They believed him because your grandfather… he was prone to spells that left him… unpredictable at times. Vasily was let off with only a warning against using magic in such a manner again. After that… he often frequented establishments in unsafe places. A week after he killed my Anton… he disappeared, without a trace. I left service the next day and returned to Baia to await the birth of my child."

"But—"

"I killed him Viktoria. With the stake Anton gave me the day I received my promise mark—and I have never regretted my actions that day. I would do it again if I could."

I said nothing, though my mind was whirring. I simply reach to take her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Well? Have I shocked you speechless? Tell me what you are thinking girl, or must I guess what it is I see in your eyes?"

"I think… perhaps I now know why you and Roza are constantly butting heads. You and she… you are two of a kind. If someone harmed Dimka… she would do the exact same thing."

She laughed, sliding her hand from mine to tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear. "Oh no… I think our Roza would be much more brutal—she is her father's daughter, after all. She would draw out their agony for days. But Vika… you are not so different. Someday you will understand how love can drive you to do unexpected things."

"I hope you are right. Sometimes I fear I will die an old main, alone and unloved."

"There is nothing wrong with being alone—it teaches you to be strong. You will learn that too… and how when things seem at their darkest, dawn is just within reach." Her eyes flicked away from my face, up to the clock on the wall and she made a sound of dismay. "Time flies so fast. You used the ylang-ylang… that is good. Run and put on your dress—but no jewelry. And not much make up—just a touch of mascara on your eyes and some clear gloss on your lips."

"But it is a fancy party! A ball! Surely I can wear a little more than that?"

"No! I have seen this night a hundred times child. You will do exactly as I say—now go." She shoved me away, slowly rising to her feet. "Hair down long and loose, caressing bare shoulders. I must dress myself so I am trusting you to follow my instructions—don't let me down."

She was almost to the door when I summoned up the courage to ask the burning question that was playing through my mind. "Grandmother… the body. What did you do with it?"

She paused, her hand on the door, but she didn't turn to face me. "There are still many wild, hungry beasts in the woods of our homeland Viktoria. They feasted well on that long ago night—just as they will do in the future on one of Vasily's kin."

A prickle of unease danced along my skin as she left me; I couldn't help but wonder what she had seen to make her add on the last part of her statement. I said a silent prayer that I would never have cause to find out what she meant, crossing myself as I hurried to my bedroom to dress for Lissa's ball.

When I met up with Mama and Yeva in the lobby a short while later, I am not ashamed to admit that happy tears sprang up in my eyes; never before had I seen my mother looking so, so beautiful—she looked like she could be a queen herself, and my grandmother looked just as elegant standing at her side. "Mama! You look so pretty!"

She turned to face me, her hand rushing up to cover her mouth as she let out a gasp of surprise. "Viktoria! Look at her Mama! Look at my baby girl!"

Yeva looked me over from head to toe, her face breaking out in a wide, beaming smile. "It is just as I saw… you are a vision kotyonok. There will be many hearts broken tonight—but more importantly, a heart won."

"I really look okay?" I ran my hand over the skirt of my dress, wishing I hadn't eaten quite so much throughout the day. Even with the alterations that had been made, the dress was still a little tight.

"You will be the most beautiful girl in the room. And that dress! It is magnificent! The Queen has wonderful taste." Mama ran her fingers along my hair, smoothing it into place.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I think you are biased… you have to say that—but Lissa did not pick this out… Roza's father did. He bought it for me too… and you don't want to know how much it cost."

Abe? But… why?" Mama looked as astonished as I'd been at the news.

"I don't know. The lady in the shop said—"

"He knew what to look for—leave it at that." Yeva smiled smugly, straightening the delicate looking shawl draped over her shoulders."

"You told him? Mama… you know he will consider it a favor owed." My mother's brow wrinkled with worry at the thought.

"No. He was repaying a debt. Now come children—it looks like our escort is here."

I followed her eyes, surprised to see the handsome young dhampir from the spa coming through the entryway, dressed in a tux. "Good evening ladies. I think I'm the luckiest man in Court tonight—I certainly have the most beautiful date."

I stood a little straighter, smiling at the comment, but Yeva took the wind out of my sails before I could speak. "Don't preen Viktoria—it's not becoming. Besides, he meant me. Ambrose is my date—it's up to you to find your own."

My mother burst out laughing as she slid her arm through mine. "The look on your face Vika… but she is right—we should get going so you can find someone to dance with. I don't think Mama is willing to share."

"Definitely not." Yeva gave us a haughty look as she took Ambrose's arm, tugging him out the door without waiting to see if we would follow.

"Is she serious?" I whispered to mama as we trailed after them to the car waiting at the curb.

"Of course. She took one look at him and declared he had wise eyes—then told him he would be her date tonight and not to argue. Obviously… he didn't."

Climbing into the car I shook my head, ignoring my grandmother as she snapped at me for sitting too close to 'her' man. I had a feeling this was definitely going to be a night to remember. Despite the fact we were not terribly late, the party was well under way when we arrived; we were made even later when the Moroi at the door rudely detained us.

"Invitations?"

"Excuse me?" Mama's brow wrinkled in confusion, her eyes dropping to his outstretched hand.

"Your invitations—they are required for entry." The tone of his voice telegraphed his disbelief that we were meant to attend.

"Mr. Mazur invited us verbally… we didn't receive formal invitations." Mama glanced at the line that had formed behind us, then back to the man at the door. "If you could just—"

"Step to the side please—so the _invited_ guests can enter." He turned to the couple behind us, cutting off her request.

"There's no need to be rude—" Ambrose spoke up, his handsome face set in a frown. "This can be cleared up easily enough if—"

"This… is a party for the _Queen—_not the type of gathering_ your kind_ is meant to attend."

I'm not sure if it was his ugly words that awoke my temper—or the way the man behind us tried to elbow his way past my mama, though the later certainly fanned that anger from a slow burn into a furious blaze. I reached out, grabbing the doorman's forearm, giving it a threateningly tight squeeze. "Abe is already going to be displeased that you've kept us waiting at the door, sir—imagine how angry he will be when I tell him you've insulted us as well. I suggest you send someone to fetch him before his daughter comes looking for us—unless you want things to get extremely ugly, very fast."

He glared at me as I released his arm, but my display had the desired effect; he turned to the man beside him, doing what I asked and sending him to find our host. We didn't have to wait long before a large, familiar figure appeared in the doorway with an irritated scowl on his face—immediately my eyes dropped to the ground; I could feel my cheeks flush bright red.

It was Pavel—someone I'd hoped I would never encounter again—the man who had forcibly removed me from the party I'd been attending with Rolan.

"Man are you in for a world of hurt. The boss said to tell you they're family… and that he's going to be dealing with you later—_personally_." He smirked, beckoning us forward, propping the door open with his foot, still staring at the Moroi man.

I moved past him, trying to remain inconspicuous, but unfortunately for me, my attempt was completely in vain; the look of amusement on his face shifted and he let out a low whistle. " Well, well… who'd have guess you'd clean up so nicely, little sister. That dress is a hell of a lot sexier than that trashy get up you had on the last time I saw you. You look… classy. The way a beautiful girl should look."

I paused, not sure whether I should ignore his rough, double handed compliment or not; he'd brought up the night I'd been determined to forget, so there was no point trying to avoid it. I leaned closer, my voice a hushed whisper so my family couldn't overhear. "You may not believe it, but I appreciate what you did that night… though I hated you at the time. Thank you for stopping me from making a big mistake."

I turned to walk away but his hand on my elbow stopped me; arching a brow I looked back at him, my lips tugging up in a smile at the confused look on his face. "Yes?"

"Pretty sure your dance card is gonna fill up fast… but maybe you could save a spot for me. Seeing as how we're sorta old friends and all. I'm not hitting on you—I just like dancing."

His bashfulness was endearing, making my smile widen. "Why Mr. Pavel… you are acting like this is the first time you have asked a woman to dance."

"Nah… but it's the first time I've asked one that looks like a lady." He winked at me, tilting his head. "Besides, I'm willing to bet your brother would rather you dance with me than one of those Moroi men in there."

"You are probably right…and I would be very honored to dance with you—though I must say I think you are overestimating how many people will be wanting to dance with me. There are so many beautiful women here at court that I am sure I will go unnoticed."

"Vika! Stop chattering and come along child—you hold us up for no reason!"

Yeva's voice was loud and insistent, so I gave him an apologetic look , hurrying to catch up with the others as they headed down the long corridor that led to the grand ballroom. When we stepped inside, I couldn't help but gasp; it was amazing—like something out of one of the English fairy tales Mama and Dimka read to me when I was small. The ballroom was a wonderland, with tiny lights spread throughout the room; they twinkled from the centerpieces on the tables and were wound throughout the greenery that wrapped around the tall, floor to ceiling columns that lined the perimeter of the room. The soft light reflected off of the fresh flowers that covered every available surface—all white, sprinkled with something that made them gleam as if they had been brushed with gold dust. Their sweet perfume filled the air, so faint and sweet, in competition with the tiny incense censers that the servers had on their trays. And the food… dear God the food. So, so much of it—pastries so light and flakey they looked like they would practically melt on your tongue, and savory dishes that filled the air around the servers with the aroma of meat and spices.

My eyes darted around, trying to find the queen; I couldn't wait to see what she'd decided to wear for such a fancy occasion. When I spotted her I wasn't disappointed—she looked beautiful and regal, fitting in perfectly with the story book setting around us. Her hair was swept back in a mass of pale blonde curls, with a sparkling tiara holding them back from her face. It caught the twinkling lights from the room, making it sparkle as she moved.

"Mama… look at Lissa… she is so beautiful!" I tugged on my mother's arm, pointing so she'd know where to look.

"Oh she does! And look at Roza!"

I'd been so enraptured by Lissa in her long, silver dress that I'd completely overlooked my brother's girlfriend—who was standing at the queen's side; as soon as my eyes found her, any self-confidence I'd been feeling vanished on the spot. Her dress was black with no adornments, a halter style that fastened behind her neck, leaving her toned, sculpted arms and shoulders bare. She looked understated and elegant—leaving me feeling almost gaudy and overdressed in comparison.

When she turned to speak to one of the Guardians that flanked them, I added another description to the assessment I had made. Sexy. The dress was completely backless, plunging so low that you could see the shadowy swell of her ass.

"I thought she would be in uniform, wanting to be armed so she could protect Lissa," Mama said, eyeing the Guardians that fanned out as soon as Roza finished speaking to them.

I watched as they approached, my eyes catching a glint of metal as the thigh high slit of Roza's skirt spread when she moved. "She is armed… look at her leg."

"Olena! You look beautiful! And Vika—that dress is amazing!" Lissa was bubbly and full of excitement as she reached out pulling my mother into a quick embrace.

My eyes were locked on Roza, still studying her dress. "I don't remember you trying that dress on when we were shopping. It is very—"

"Revealing? Yeah, I know… and I didn't try it on. Lissa sprung it on me this afternoon. She said she wanted me off duty tonight and she didn't trust me not to smuggle in a weapon." She huffed in irritation at the smug look on her best friend's face.

"Sorry, but I know you too well. The only way to make sure you're unarmed is to insure there's no place to hide something."

"She's not unarmed," I said softly, arching a brow as I met Roza's stunned gaze.

"Of course she is—there's no way she could…" Lissa's voice trailed off as I reached down and pushed apart the folds of fabric on either side of the high slit. "Oh for God's sake Rose! Really?"

Roza shrugged, brushing my hand away as she readjusted the material to hide the gun. "Better safe than sorry. I'm sure Abe's got the place secure… but I'm not willing to chance it. How'd you know?"

She gave me a quizzical look that made me feel smug; for once I knew something she didn't when it came to safety and protection. "When you moved, the light caught the metal of the holster's buckle. You should have painted over it with a matte black color so it wouldn't be reflective."

"Damn… I didn't even think of that. Good job Vik."

"Didn't they teach you about concealed carry at school? I thought all the academies had the same curriculum they had to follow—for the novices, at least."

"Yeah but it was focused on our being in uniform. They didn't exactly cover what to do when you were practically naked."

"St. Basil's tests us on hiding weapons in the most efficient ways while in formal clothing. If you want… I can send you copies of my class notes when I go back to school."

She smiled, her eyed brightening at the thought. "Thanks! That'd be awesome!"

"Only you would get all excited over the thought of hiding weapons." Christian made a face, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Better that than getting all worked up over a damn pot holder or candy thermometer," she shot back, scowling at him.

"Do _not _start you two! Not tonight!" Lissa chastised them, grabbing Christian's arm and pointing across the room. "There's Eddie…he looks uncomfortable, doesn't he? Let's go say hi,"

Roza grinned at me as she trailed after them, her smile widening as her eyes darted upward to a spot above my head. "Uh oh… told you he'd have a problem with the dress."

I stared after her, confused as she scurried away, then jumped out of my skin when my brother spoke, right behind me.

"Viktoria?"

I turned to face him, smiling at the look of astonishment on his face. "Were you expecting someone else? Karolina or Sonya maybe?"

"No… you just look… so grown up. What happened to my tiny baby sister?" He reached down, taking my hands, then stepped back, studying my outfit. "You look very beautiful… though I am not sure I approve of the dress. You are showing entirely too much skin for my liking."

"Me? What about your girlfriend? My dress is modest compared to hers—you can almost see her ass!"

"Yes, but neither of us had any say in what she wore—Lissa demanded it. Not to mention… no one here would dare touch my Roza." His eyes darted over to his girlfriend, his lips curving up in a slow, secretive smile. "Besides Vika… it is one thing for a man to see his girlfriend dressed like that… and another thing entirely for a brother to see his little sister on display.

The look on his face and the heat in his eyes as he gazed at her are two things I swear to God I hope to never again see on my brother's face for the rest of my days. I made a sound of disgust, elbowing him in the stomach. "Dimitri! Stop it!"

"Stop what?" He didn't even look at me, eyes still locked on all the tanned skin she had on prominent display.

"Stop thinking nasty things when you are standing next to me! You can't even take your eyes off her for a second so I don't even want to guess what must be on your mind!"

"You two behave," Mama's voice was soft as she reached up, straightening his collar. "Your sister's dress is fine, Dimka. I approved of it and so did your grandmother. In fact, to hear her tell it… she helped pick it out—so if you have a problem with it, take it up with her."

"Where is grandmother?" I pointed her out, trying not to laugh as his eyes widened comically. "Is that… Ambrose she is dancing with?"

"It is. He is her date tonight." My mother gave him a pointed look, heaving a dramatic sigh. "At least she is getting to dance. It is too bad no one has thought to ask me."

Dimitri smiled, bowing at the waist as he pressed his lips against the back of her hand. "May I have this dance please Mama?"

"I thought you would never ask! Vika—you will be alright alone?"

"Of course. Look… Roza is coming back. She'll keep me company while you two have fun."

Mama nodded, following after my brother as he steered her towards the dance floor; Roza laced her arm through mine as we watched them, her smile soft and happy.

"He's so graceful, isn't he?"

"For a giant, you mean?" I teased, giggling when she nodded. "According to Karolina, he had an awkward stage when he first started sprouting up."

"Wish I coulda seen it." She tore her eyes away from my brother, glancing around the room. "I'm impressed—the old man really outdid himself. I didn't think he could pull it off on his own." Roza looked around the room, a faint smile on her face. "Don't you dare tell him I said that, though."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I hope someone takes pictures, otherwise no one back at school will believe me when I describe it."

"Oh I'm sure he's hired someone—or more likely called in a debt someone owes him. He's probably forcing one of the Royals to play photographer. He'd get a kick out of that." She glanced over at me, her lips curved up in a crooked grin as she winked playfully. "If that's the case you can bet they'll be damned sure to do a good job—they wouldn't wanna piss him off… that could end very, very… dangerously."

Across the room a female Guardian standing along the wall raised her hand, waving at Roza; she waved back, glancing over at me, her expression torn. "That's Meredith—we were in school together. She's been having some… problems… with her charge. He apparently thinks that part of having a Guardian means he's entitled to grope her whenever he wants. Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes? I need to talk to her for a sec."

"Sure. I'll try some of the food. Not too much though—this dress is already a little tight." It wasn't a complaint, just the truth. The formal dresses sold in the boutiques at Court were geared towards the Moroi's figures. I suppose they thought that the dhampirs in residence had no need of fancy dresses. Watching Roza cross the room, I discreetly tugged at the bodice of my dress, wishing the tight fitting foundation garment that Joy had selected for me to wear underneath the dress could have made my figure a little less curvy—at least the top half of them, anyway.

"Stop fidgeting, you look beautiful. You could pass for a princess—now all we need is to find a handsome prince to sweep you off your feet. Until he shows up you'll have to make do with me—may I have this dance Miss Belikova?"

I turned, immediately biting the inside of my lip to contain a giggle. Unlike the other men in attendance who had opted for the customary dark suits in shades of black and gray, Abe Mazur was dressed in his normal, ostentatious style—making him look like a peacock amidst a flock of pigeons. He'd paired his white tux with a peach colored shirt and dark burgundy tie, doubling the amount of jewelry he normally wore in honor of the formal occasion.

"I don't know how to dance like this sir." I gestured to the couples on the dance floor, doing what I assumed was a waltz, my cheeks coloring at the admission.

"Then I'll have to teach you—every young lady needs to know how to dance." Bowing slightly, he took my hand, resting it on the crook of his arm as he steered me to the dance floor.

Moving through the crowd I noticed Lissa smiling happily as she was whirled around the floor by Dimka's charge; Christian was smiling and laughing at something she'd said, and for the first time I understood what the queen saw in him. When he wasn't scowling and snarling at people, he was really a very handsome man.

The other couples were giving the middle of the floor a wide berth to avoid being the center of attention—but apparently that wasn't Abe's style. To my horror he led us straight to the empty area, so we—and my obvious lack of skill—would be on prominent display.

"Don't look so nervous kid—it's me they're staring at, not you. Now lesson one—ignore everything you've ever heard about waltzing. All that crap about counting steps is useless and will just end up making you look awkward. There's only two things you need to know for any paired dance; feel the music—and follow your partner's movements." He smiled, putting his hand on my waist, pulling me flush against his body—much closer than the other couples, who were maintaining a respectable distance between themselves.

"Mr. Mazur! I don't think—"

"Relax—I'm not putting the moves on you. You have to trust me—I know what I'm doing. Ready?" He waited for a moment, his head tilted to the side as he listened to the music, then began to glide me backwards. "Do you feel the way I'm moving?"

I did, and suddenly I understood why he had pulled me so very close; the movement of his muscles was explaining the steps to me in a way that was easier to understand than any words could ever be. Even so, I stumbled, stepping right on his foot, making my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I—"

"You're forgetting lesson one—you're not feeling the music Viktoria." He smiled, shaking his head. "You young people today… you don't appreciate the art of dancing. You think it's all about shaking your asses—and it's not. In your thirst for instant gratification you forget about the courtship—the romance of the melody and the movement of the dance."

"I don't understand how I'm supposed to _feel_ music—it makes no sense."

"Close your eyes. Go on—do it."

I sighed but did as he asked, feeling extremely foolish. "What now?"

"Listen to the story the music is telling. Feel it in your heart and let it flow through you, becoming a part of you."

I tried to do as he asked, but my concentration was broken by his laughter. "You're thinking about it too hard kid."

My eyes shot open and I glared at him, irritated. "I am not! I was—"

"Your face was all screwed up like you were working on calculus or quantum physics. This isn't about thinking— it's about feeling… oh and by the way… in case you didn't notice… you're also waltzing." He smiled broadly, flashing his fangs. "I forgot to mention lesson number three—when all else fails, distraction works wonders."

I glanced down, surprised to realize he was right; I'd been so intent on arguing with him that I'd stopped thinking about the steps and just… well… danced. My body had taken over while my mind was occupied with other things, moving perfectly in time with the music—even after he'd released his grip and increased the distance between us. Glancing back up at him and seeing his smug expression, I couldn't resist needling him—just a bit. "You completely made up that last part didn't you? About distracting me?"

He shrugged, sliding his arm around my waist and dipping me backwards as the music ended—an unexpected movement that made me let out a gasp of surprise. "That, my dear… is something you'll never know." Pulling me upright he leaned closer; I giggled as his beard tickled my ear, the sound making him smile. "You'll have to be satisfied with learning to waltz and leave an old man his secrets."

I smiled as he pulled back, but my amusement was short lived; an exaggerated whisper caught my attention, the words wiping away my moment of happiness in the blink of an eye.

"Completely disgusting—bringing his blood whore to an event for the queen."

Heat rushed to my face as my eyes darted around, trying to spot the woman who had spoken—and it was only then that I realized several of the Moroi couples around us had stopped to stare, their expressions making their thoughts known as clearly as if they had voiced them. The men were leering at me in a way that made my skin crawl and the woman looked completely disgusted to see me on Abe's arm. I glanced over at him, hoping he hadn't heard the comment—but it was evident that it had reached his ears; his smile was gone, replaced by a dark, dangerous look similar to the one his daughter had displayed in the café when we had argued the day before.

"Excuse me for a moment Miss Belikova."

Judging by the way he moved through the crowd—like a heat seeking missile homing in on its target—it was apparent he had recognized the woman's snooty voice. Despite my embarrassment, I followed a few steps behind him, ready to intervene if things started to get out of hand—though I hadn't the faintest idea what I could do to calm him down if they did.

"Lady Tarus…having a good time? Is the… entertainment to your satisfaction?" He stopped mere inches away from a dark haired Moroi woman—so close that he was invading her personal space.

"Why…yes. It's a very lovely party. I think—"

"Are you certain? If it's not… I'm sure we can liven things up quite a bit." He cut her off, his angry dark eyes a complete contrast to the wide smile on his face. "Since you seem to enjoy indulging in gossip, let's see if I can come up with something that'll get everyone's attention—After all, I wouldn't want my guests to be bored now, would I? But unlike the lies you're so fond of spreading, every word I say will be true…and I have proof to back up what I say—do you?"

The Moroi's expression went even paler as she tool a large step back. "Mr. Mazur—"

"What shall we talk about first?" He kept right on going, not giving the slightest indication he'd heard her. " The fact your husband is screwing your sister—or that you've been seen sneaking out of your Guardian's apartment in the wee hours of the morning? Or perhaps we should talk about your children—I head young Joseph almost got expelled from Alder for compelling one of the locals to have a very good time when he snuck her into his dorm room after curfew—and almost drained her in the process, might I add. That was a hard one to cover up, wasn't it?"

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd around us as Abe's voice carried across the dance floor; with each secret he threw out the woman grew paler, until she looked on the verge of fainting. I felt a surge of pity for her, despite the ugly comment she'd made about me; I knew firsthand how it felt to be humiliated in front of your peers—Abe had done the same thing to me in Russia, though in a much less appalling way. I was grateful for his intercession, of course, but it was far, far to easy for me to remember how disgraced I'd felt that night. Stepping forward, I reached out, touching his arm—trying to get his attention.

"Mr. Mazur—please. Enough."

"Ah… Viktoria. Lady Tarus, have you been introduced to the young lady you were slandering? No? Well then… may I present Miss Viktoria Belikova—Guardian Belikov's youngest sister. She's a student at Saint Basil's, flown in to court for a visit at the Queen's request. You see… the Queen considers her family…" he leaned forward, all traces of his former smile evaporating as he spoke, "and so do _I._"

The enormity of the hidden threat behind his words wasn't lost on the Moroi; I have to give her credit, she had the intelligence to realize the fix she was in. She knew she had to make amends—and fast—or risk not only Abe's wrath, but Lissa Dragomir's too. Clearing her throat, she straightened up, regaining her composure remarkably fast; a calculating expression crossed her face then she nodded her head in my direction.

"Miss Belikova. I apologize for…. the misunderstanding."

I bowed my head respectfully, pretending nothing was wrong; I wouldn't allow myself to humiliate my family by appearing petty in front of the crowd—or by doing anything that might exacerbate the situation into even more of a scene. "It is forgotten already, Madam."

I turned my attention back to Abe—who was still tense with anger—reaching out to rest my hand lightly on his arm. "I never had a father to teach me how to dance—Mr. Mazur has been kind enough to fill the role tonight. If you will excuse us, I fear I am very clumsy and we should probably have another lesson."

Gently tugging on his arm, I pulled him away, then turned to face him, holding out my hands; I pitched my voice just loud enough to carry to the onlookers who were still watching. "Now please—what was lesson two again?"

"Follow your partner's lead." He took me in his arms, moving me backwards in time to the music, his lips tugged up in a smirk of approval. "Very smooth—you're quite the little diplomat, aren't you?"

"And you… are quite a dancer," I quipped, returning his smile. "I suppose you took lessons?"

"Nah—I've never been much for formal training. A woman I knew taught me so I would fit in with her crowd." He smiled, his eyes running over my dress. "First dance I took her to, she wore a dress similar to yours… only it was bright red—as soon as your grandmother described it to me I knew what she was wanted."

"Roza's mother?"

"Hardly." He laughed. "You forget, Janine is a dhampir, kid. Royal balls weren't really something she was invited to. When I was your age… all I cared about was making people like the ones here tonight accept me."

"I can understand that… wanting to fit in. Doesn't everyone want to be accepted by their peers?"

"I wanted more than that. I wanted them to acknowledge that I had Royal blood, even if it was diluted. My mother was an Ozera—back then, her father was their Prince. When she fell in love with my father… he disowned her."

The thought of someone being cut off from their family just because of who they loved troubled me. "Did she… was it hard on her?"

"No idea. She died giving birth to me, and my father refused to talk about her. It hurt him too much, remembering what he'd lost." His voice was even, but his eyes filled with so much sadness it made my heart ache, deep inside my chest.

"You were saying you wanted them to acknowledge you," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to less troubling things," so you what? Made a spectacle like the one with the Tarus woman? Forced them to let you into their midst?"

He chuckled at my sarcastic tone. "That would be too obvious. I was much, much more devious—you forget… they call me the serpent, little Vika. No, I set my eye on the woman that everyone predicted would be the next Moroi Queen—and I made her fall in love with me, knowing that if she did… all the others would have to accept me."

I looked up at him, frowning. "Did you love her?"

"I did… but not in the way you probably mean. She was someone I had known for a long time… older than me by a few years… classy and sophisticated. She was smart… smarter than me, truth be told, and I respected her… admired her… but I wasn't _in _ love with her."

"But why—"

"There's all different kinds of love, kid. Platonic… familial…"

"I know all that," I said, interrupting him crossly. "I'm not twelve."

"Never said you were, did I? But when you pout like that and interrupt… I might say you're thirteen."

I scowled; he laughed.

"As I was saying… what I had with her… it was a… companionable love. Your generation has a much more crass name for it—'friends with benefits'. It wasn't the knock your socks off, head over heels kind of love—it was… comfortable. Routine, almost. She taught me what I needed to know to fit in with her lifestyle—what forks to use… how to ballroom dance and make polite conversation. She made me study Moroi law and understand the importance of politics, and in return she had a handsome man on her arm for all the parties and Royal shindigs she attended. I suppose she read more into it than I did—and that's my fault. I was young, and I enjoyed having people envy me… it was easy and comfortable—until she started making noises about making it permanent. She loved me and wanted to marry her… but about that time… I met a girl…"

His voice trailed off, his eyes flicking away from my face. I tightened my hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to continue. "And?"

"She took my breath away. From that moment on, she was all I thought about. I didn't need food or water or air—or even blood. I just needed her." His eyes were locked on the edge of the dance floor, his voice so soft I almost couldn't hear it over the music we danced to. "I fell in love, kid—and it made me see how wrong what I was doing with Tati was."

I followed his gaze over to a red haired dhampir that was chatting with my mother; her featured were so similar to Roza's that I didn't have to guess who she was. "Janine?"

He nodded, but did not speak, his eyes full of so much wistful yearning that I had to speak up and ask the obvious question. "If you pardon my saying so… the look on your face… why aren't you still with her?'

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from her. "What happens when you mix fire and gasoline, Viktoria?"

I thought about it for a moment before answering. "It burns stronger? Faster?"

"Exactly… but in joining with the fire, the gasoline changes. It loses itself. I have old world ideas about some things—I always have. I didn't want my woman working—I wanted her at home, raising my children. Janie… didn't agree. She was afraid that if she stayed she would lose who she was and become what I wanted—and she couldn't bear the thought of it."

"You still love her," I said softly.

"Forever. And she still loves me. But together… we burn each other up, destroying ourselves." His eyes darted over to where Dimitri was bent over, his head close to Roza as he laughed at something she'd said. "Those two have the same kind of love, but instead of fighting against it, they let the fire mold them. They don't look at it as losing who they are, but rather as becoming something stronger… better… from the flames. I look at them… and I see what Janie and I could have been if we'd been a little less bullheaded and a little more brave. We could have made it work if we'd tried a little harder and stuck it out."

"There's still time… you could try." I offered.

"I've always been willing to try. She isn't." His lips curved up in a sad smile, then he shook his head, holding me a little tighter. "Enough about the sorry state of my love life. Back to the lesson—do you understand the point I was trying to make?"

"That was a lesson? I thought it was just a story." I frowned, racking my brain. "The woman who taught you to dance was someone you loved, but she wasn't who you were meant to be with? Because it wasn't the forever kind of love… just friendship?"

"Close enough. You're a smart girl, Viktoria. Too smart to waste your life on the commune."

His assumption angered me. "I'm not going to become—"

"That's not what I meant," he interrupted, trying to soothe my wounded pride. "You'll get a job at a pharmacy like your sister, or maybe at a grocery store—or if you're really lucky as an office clerk—and waste your life away. Is that what you want?"

"What I want doesn't matter."

"It does. Are you good with numbers?"

The abrupt change confused me. "I—what?"

"Keeping tallies. Adding and subtracting. Calculating percentages and interest. That sort of thing."

"I… I suppose so. I always do well on my quizzes, at least. But—"

"Good. I already know you're a natural diplomat—so you'll always have an option. You can work for me—from Baia." I opened my mouth to protest, but he shushed me before I could speak. "Don't answer now—just remember the offer. It would give you an opportunity to do a little traveling, so you could see new places—and I don't think your family would object as long as you weren't serving as a Guardian."

I realized he had steered us to the edge of the dance floor, right by the spot where my mother was chatting with Janine Hathaway. Before he could pull us back into the throng of bodies on the dance floor, I turned my head, smiling brightly at Roza's mother. "Guardian Hathaway… I need to use the ladies room but I hate to leave Mr. Mazur without a partner. Would you mind stepping in for me?"

She gave me a pleasant smile in return, nodding as she moved to set her glass and the plate she held down on a nearby table; Abe's arm tightened around me, fingers digging into my lower back—letting me know he was less than pleased.

"Kid—what the hell are you doing?" The look on his face made me giggle; his eyes betrayed his panic, no matter how in control he might seem.

"Helping you grab a little happiness—be grateful! Now's your chance to start charming her back into your life—so give her that wonderful smile of yours and tell her she is the most beautiful woman in the room!" My whisper was soft, but he heard it.

"She always is," he muttered.

"She always is what?" Janine's eyes darted between us as she stepped up to take my place.

"He was saying that you are always the most beautiful woman in the room, madam," I said innocently, trying not to smile at her blush.

"Is that so? Well… you're looking a wee bit handsome yourself tonight, Ibrahim."

I turned away as he smiled, his arms moving to encircle her; mama was watching me with a look of amusement on her face. "What?"

"Why do I get the feeling you don't really need to use the facilities, Viktoria Belikova?"

"He still loves her, Mama—only I think that she has shot him down so many times that he's scared to try again… so I gave him a little nudge."

"Vika… that wasn't a nudge. It was a sledgehammer to the head." She laughed, taking my hand and squeezing it. "And here I thought your grandmother was the only matchmaker in the family."

"Olena? Can I borrow you for a second? I was checking on the kitchen—they're about to start bringing the Revani out… but something's not quite right."

Mama glanced over at Christian, nodding as she reached down to take his arm—tugging him towards the kitchen that was hidden away down the hall. "Did they put the pistachios on top? They balance out the flavor. Though I also sprinkle a little nutmeg on each slice too—but that's a secret."

I watched them walk away with their heads close together, knowing that it must please Mama to have him ask her advice, then glanced around, looking for my brother or Roza, wondering where they might be.

"My turn?"

The gentle touch on my back startled me, but I tried to hide it. I glanced over my shoulder, nodding at Paval, then followed him to the dance floor and let the music sweep me away. Dimka soon replaced him, then Christian—having averted the mini crisis in the kitchen. Even their friend Eddie spun me around the floor—though he seemed far too nervous to be having a good time. He kept looking over at my brother like he expected him to object, blushing furiously when I gently chided him to relax and smile. When the song ended he seemed almost relieved, leading me over to where Roza stood so he could attempt to lure her out onto the floor.

"Come on Rose—your turn."

"Nope—thanks though. I'm saving all my dances for my Russian. But you know who you should ask?" Her eyes darted over to the table where Lissa's sister sat; the girl had wistful look on her face as she stared out at the dance floor. "Jillybean."

Eddie frowned. "I can't. She's a Princess."

"So the fuck what? Lissa is a queen—and you danced with her. Come on Eddie… I've been watching her all night and nobody has asked her. It would really mean a lot to her." She bumped her arm against his shoulder, giving him a pleading look. "You know you want to."

He ducked his head down, his blonde hair falling in his eyes; after hesitating for a minute, he nodded, heading towards her table. We watched as her face brightened; she nodded her head, standing up so quickly that her chair tipped over backwards.

"I knew it—she's got a crush on him. She's been watching him all night." Roza smiled, pleased with herself, her eyes following them across the room.

The music switched as they reached the dance floor; we both dissolved into giggles at the identical looks of panic on their faces as the room filled with a fast, pulsing Mediterranean beat. The young Princess grabbed Eddie's hand, tugging him back to her table so fast that he stumbled, almost pulling them both off their feet—making us laugh so hard we had to lean on each other for support.

Wiping my eyes, I saw Abe throw his hand up, circling it in the air; the volume cranked up in response, so loud that I could actually feel the rhythm vibrating through my body. He returned to the dance floor, towing my mother behind him—ignoring her protest , he flashed a devilish smile, and then raised his hands above his head as he began gyrating his hips like a belly dancer. Laughing, I turned to Roza, making a teasing comment, asking what she would do if Abe and Mama decided to have a vacation fling—but she couldn't hear me over the sound of the loud Turkish music. I tried again… to no avail. She didn't even acknowledge I had spoken; her eyes were locked on the table where Eddie and Jill were sitting, and she was completely wrapped up in watching the outcome of her matchmaking.

That… was when it happened.

The strangest feeling hit me—almost like dejavu; a tingle ran through me, making chill bumps dance along my skin—even the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled, standing on end. My eyes immediately darted to the table where my grandmother was sitting, locking with hers; she nodded at me with the strangest smile on her face, looking so pleased that it confused me— and then… I knew. It was time. Something was about to happen that would leave me forever changed, just as she had predicted.

I can't really describe it… that sense of knowing. The closest I can come is to compare it to being in a car wreck; it's that feeling you get a split second before an accident, when everything seems to slow down around you and all you can do is wait for the impact and the sound of crunching metal and the shattering of glass. You glance out the window and see the other vehicle barreling down on you, but even though everything is in slow motion, you have no time to brace yourself for what's about to occur. That's how it was for me in that moment… my mind was racing, and I was trembling with anticipation…just waiting for _something_ to happen.

"Your name must be Angel, 'cause I've died and gone to Heaven."

I froze, feeling like I had been sucker punched in the gut. The low husky voice behind me was one I'd heard a thousand times before—but never in person.

It was the voice from my dreams.

I turned—and for the space of a single heartbeat, the world stood still around me. I stared at him in shock, trying to remember how to speak. "Ex- Excuse me?"

For the first time in almost four years, I could see his full face; what had always been draped in shadow before was fully on display—and he was so magnificent that he completely stole my breath away.

"Your name, sweetheart—is it Angel?"

"Vik-Viktoria." I stammered, but he didn't seem to notice.

He held out his hand and I automatically slid my own into it; there was a surge when we touched that made me dizzy—it was replaced almost immediately by the warm familiar sense of peace that I'd always felt in my dreams. The… rightness… of having him hold my hand made my breath catch in my throat; staring into his bright green eyes, I could feel my cheeks flood with color. He used our grasped palms to pull me closer; I dropped my chin in a futile attempt to hide behind my hair. I didn't want him to see how stunned I was or realize how such a simple thing as the touch of his palm against mine affected me. He didn't notice my embarrassment; his arms slid around me, locking behind my back, startling me so much I jerked my head up in surprise—and then… he kissed me.

And every single one of my senses exploded.

At first, it was just a soft, teasing press of his mouth against mine, so sweet that it was like spun sugar, feathery and light against my lips—but then… the moment I responded, the kiss instantly changed. My nails dug into his shoulders as my mouth moved against his; he tensed, pulling me closer, increasing the pressure of his lips. I opened my mouth to him, swiping my tongue along his lower lip, making a soft sound when he reciprocated the gesture. His tongue teasingly brushed against my own, sending a surge of electricity through my body—I instantly pressed myself even closer, my hands sliding from his shoulders to his neck.

In that moment, I understood what Abe had meant in a way I hadn't before. I'd thought his comment about needing something more than air was just a pretty phrase—but now I knew he had been completely serious. Kissing the boy from my dreams was more important than breathing—more important than anything else in the whole, wide world. I forgot about the people around us or the fact we were practically strangers; my mind was consumed with one thing alone—the fire that raced through my blood, awakened by his kiss, filling me with a burning need for more of him.

_"Get your hands off my sister, Ivashkov!"_

At first, I didn't process my brother's voice—full of rage and indignation. It wasn't until the boy was ripped away from me that I realized Dimitri was there. At that moment, I couldn't breathe for a completely different reason—my body was mourning the loss of him, making me cry out in protest and reach out to reclaim him. I couldn't reach him—a very large body had stationed itself between us, bristling with pent up tension and rage. Dimka was like an enraged dog, straining to snap it's leash—though I couldn't for the life of me figure out why… mind you, I was still bleary headed from the kiss and having trouble thinking. A hand clamped down on my arm, jerking me back as I tried to shove my brother aside; it was Roza, steering me away from the two men. I didn't go easily—I struggled to return to his side, almost knocking the both of us off balance since we were wearing high heeled shoes.

"Roza—let me go!" It came out almost a growl.

"No—Dimitri will handle it." She glanced back over her shoulder, a scowl on her beautiful face. "I can't believe he would pull this shit here—he's gotta be drunk."

"There's nothing to handle! It was just a kiss—one I happened to have been enjoying!" I elbowed her sharply in the solar plexus, trying to loosen her hold on me. " Let me go for God's sake!"

Her grip tightened to the point it was actually painful. "Viktoria—calm the fuck down!"

"I will not! I can kiss whoever the hell I want! Now let me go—I'm _not_ going to ask you again!"

"So help me God if I have to tackle you to the floor and pin you I will—but if you make me do it in this damn dress I'm gonna be fucking pissed!"

I kicked off my shoes as she tugged me across the room, ready to plow her down if I had to; I didn't care about making a spectacle—it wouldn't be any worse than the one she and Dimitri had already caused. I was still filled with a burning need to return to the boy's side—and have him kiss me again. "This is none of your business _or _ Dimitri's!"

"Hah! That's what _you _ think. The only reason he kissed you was to—Fuck!" She swayed, thrown off balance as I went completely limp in her arms.

It was what I'd intended.

Using my momentum, I pulled her more off balance, then I locked my legs, grabbing her arms and hurling her over my shoulder before she could react—slamming her down on the ground so hard that I could hear her breath rush out from the impact. "Don't you _ever_ try to strong arm me again Roza."

My voice sounded dangerous, eerily similar to my brother's when he'd spoken a few minutes before. If it took a knockdown, full on fight to show them I was serious, then that was exactly what they'd get.

She sprang up, recovering far faster than I'd thought she would, kicking off her own shoes and crouching over to center herself. "We're doing this to protect you!"

I cursed the long skirt I was wearing—the slit in hers gave her more freedom and ease to move around. Warily watching her body for any sign of sudden movement, I mimicked her posture, waiting for her to rush me. I wasn't a fool; I might be bigger and stronger than she was, but she had been trained by the absolute best—my brother, who was much, much larger than me. Still, for all her skill, I had one thing on my side at that moment that she was lacking—an all-consuming rage at having the moment I'd waited so long for destroyed almost as soon as it had begun. Focusing on the woman circling me, I tuned out the small crowd that had gathered around us, ignoring the jeering catcalls of the men and the shocked murmurs of the ladies.

"I can protect myself, Guardian Hathaway—I don't need your assistance."

"Yeah, you proved that in Baia, didn't you," she taunted, trying to provoke me into movement. When that didn't work, she rushed me, feigning to the left in an attempt to get me to dodge in the wrong direction.

I didn't fall for it.

Dropping to my knees I grabbed her arms, flipping her again and slamming my fist into her stomach as soon as her back hit the ground. She stared up at me in shock as I straddled her, one hand at her throat, pinning her, the other drawn back, in case I needed to deliver another blow. "I'm not the same naive girl I was back then—I'm a hell of a lot tougher and I'm—"

"Finished." Two strong arms locked around me, tight as iron bands, lifting me completely off of her body. The next thing I knew I was staring at the floor—and it seemed a long way down. My brother had tossed me over his shoulder and was storming out of the ballroom.

"You put me down this minute Dimitri Nikolai Belikov! She started it!" I kneed him in the chest, but it had no effect on him—in fact, I think it hurt my leg more than it hurt him.

"Be quiet! She did _not _ start anything—she was trying to keep _me_ from doing something I would regret."

"Bullshit! She was keeping me away—"

"Because she knows how Adrian is!" He cut me off, his voice angrier than I could remember ever hearing it. "If you'd reached him he would have kissed you again—or done something far worse, just to piss me off… and I would have fucking killed him for touching you."

His words stunned me so much that I fell silent; it wasn't so much the statement he'd made as the fact that in all my life, not once had I heard him curse. It was just something that Dimitri _did not do. _ My silence seemed to make him think I was calming down—but I wasn't; as soon as I got over my initial shock, I began struggling again. Lacing my fists together, I slammed them against his lower back; this time he groaned and stumbled, but still he didn't stop. I screamed and cursed at him but he ignored me—right up until I slammed my fists in the same spot again. He dumped me off his shoulder on to the ground, glaring at me as he rubbed his back.

"How dare you treat me like this! I am not Roza! I won't put up with—hey!" He grabbed my hand and started walking, dragging me along after him. I dug my feet in but all that accomplished was scraping up my bare feet.

"You might as well stop fighting me. You're going back to your apartment and you're not leaving it again tonight. If I have to, I'll stand guard outside the door."

"Dimitri—let go!" I jerked my arm so hard that he had to let go or else risk dislocating it from the socket. When he turned around to snatch it again, I jumped backwards, glaring up at him. "I am _not_ some child to be dragged to my room for misbehaving!"

"You can make all the foolish mistakes you want when you are an adult—"

"I _am_ an adult!"

"Not yet you…" his voice trailed off, realization replacing the look of anger he'd been wearing. "Vika… why didn't you—"

"Because it doesn't matter! I understand everyone was busy and caught up in the excitement of preparing for tonight. I'm not a child who pouts and sulks because of a forgotten birthday—but I am a _woman_ now and you have no right to treat me this way!" He moved towards me but I held up my hand to stop him; I was angry and embarrassed—I didn't want comforting, and as sad as it is to say, in that moment, I didn't trust him. He had never tricked me before, but he'd never mistreated me either—it was far too easy to imagine him luring me, just so he could drag me off again. "No! You and Roza _humiliated _me back there Dimitri! In front of _everyone. _I didn't deserve it—and neither did _he._"

"You may think you are all grown up just because you had a birthday, but Adrian Ivashkov is not the sort of man I will ever let you be around. Being seen with him is dangerous for your reputation! As dangerous as—"

"As what? What happened with Rolan?" I cut him off, practically hissing it out. "Despite what your precious girlfriend might have told you, I did nothing wrong that night—and I wouldn't have. You all seem to think I'm some blood whore in the making, but I have morals you know! She's the one who made a scene that night too, conning her father into sending his goons to drag me out of the party. I've grown up a lot since then and I'm old enough to make my own decisions about who I—"

"What night?" His hands snaked out, grabbing my arms, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What party?"

"Don't act like she didn't tell you!" I jerked my arms free again, shoving him away. "Just go back to your party and leave me the hell alone. I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight!"

"Vika, please, don't be like this. I am only trying to—"

"No!" I stormed off in the direction of my apartment, hitching my skirt up with my hands so I could move fast enough to keep ahead of him; that he would follow me was a given—I knew he was back there, even though he didn't speak.

When I reached my building I jerked open the door, letting it shut in his face, then I stood glaring at him, watching as he walked towards the elevators—before I headed pointedly for the stairs. He took them two at a time to catch up with me, muttering under his breath that I was more temperamental than Roza,; I didn't care—I just wanted to be rid of him. I could feel the tears welling up and I wanted to cry alone. I didn't speak again until we reached my apartment, turning to glare at him as I swiped away the tears that had overflowed and were trailing down my cheeks. "I'm here—now go away. You don't have to worry about my running off—I just want to be alone."

"Kotyonok… just let me come in so we can—"

"No!" I cut him off, pointing down the hall in the direction we had come. " I need to calm down and so do you—or things will be said that we will later regret. Once words are thrown out in anger they are impossible to reclaim—and they are impossible to forget. Tomorrow we can talk, but tonight I want you to leave me the hell alone, Dimka!"

"Don't call me that! I hate that name!" He leaned against the wall, rubbing wearily at his forehead. "It reminds me of _him. He's_ the first one who used it. How many times do I have to ask you before you realize I mean it?"

I almost pointed out that he had been acting like our father—bullying me into doing what he wanted, determined he was right, but I caught myself before it could slip out; the comparison would have shattered him—but I was so angry that if he didn't leave I wouldn't be able to keep it locked up within me. "Fine—_Dimitri—_that is one of the things we can discuss _tomorrow._"

He stared at me, his face expressionless—but his eyes were full of misery. "Alright… but I will say this… I would do it again if I had to. You don't know—"

"I don't _want_ to know—I am tired and embarrassed and I don't know how I will face people. At this moment I think I should cut my trip short and just go home to spare myself the humiliation! I am going to take a bath and go to bed and leave the decisions for tomorrow—and I suggest you go collect your girlfriend and do the same. Good night Dimitri." I stepped into the apartment, slamming it before he could respond. Throwing all the locks and fastening the chain, I leaned up against it, then completely let go. Sinking to the floor I cried harder than I'd ever cried, feeling so mixed up and confused that my stomach was in knots. As horrible as I felt for fighting with my brother, I didn't regret the things I'd said; he _deserved _ my anger, and much, much more—but the look in his eyes tormented me.

I cried so much that it was hard to breath, making me dizzy as I gasped for air. By the time my sobs subsided, my throat was sore, and my eyes were aching too. I was so shaky and weak that when I tried to stand I couldn't—I had a hard time just crawling over to the couch and pulling myself up off of the floor. I curled into a ball, emotionally and physically drained from everything that had happened, but still the tears wouldn't stop. They were still flowing freely as I stared up at the ceiling, completely exhausted by my outburst—and at that moment, when my defenses were at their weakest… I was pulled into a vision.

Of _him._

* * *

**_A/N: _**I swear to god, every time I transfer my handwritten chapters into the pc, they triple in size. I had hoped to include the 'vision' she falls into in this chapter, but at almost 13,000 words, it's going to have to wait for the next one—I'll give you a little hint though… it's not just a vision, it's a Spirit dream, too. Someone… is looking for her. ;o)


	8. Chapter 8: Once Upon A Dream

_Previous diary entry continued…_

_At least… I thought it was a vision—at first. It had the bright clear quality of those dreams, but it was somehow…different… though I couldn't quite figure out why._ _I was in a darkened room, standing before a huge window that looked out over the expanse of one of the gardens that were scattered around the court_; _it took me a moment to realize that it was the garden I'd visited the day before—I recognized the statue of the queen. There was a low table in front of me, scattered with candles and a large, framed picture; moving closer, I picked it up to examine it, hoping it would give me some clue as to where I might be.__The woman in it was sitting in a high backed chair, holding a small boy on her lap, her lips curved up in a loving smile as she gazed down at his dark head; I realized at once that it was the image of the former queen and that the table was some sort of shrine to her. I set the picture back down, crossing myself as I murmured a quick prayer in her memory._

_That was when he spoke._

"Why do you pray for her? I know you never met her… most people celebrated her death as if it was a fucking holiday."

I didn't expect a voice to drift out of the darkness behind me; it startled me so much I let out a girlish shriek that made him chuckle.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you… although you surprised the hell out of me when you appeared. I'm not sure how you got here—I didn't mean to pull you in, I usually can't when I've had too much to drink." I heard the sound of liquid being poured into a glass followed by the bottle being set on the table. "Just so you know I'm not being a stalker—I wanted to make sure you were okay. You were pretty upset when Belikov hauled you out of the ballroom. I have to admit though… seeing you hand Rose her ass… it was worth having to listen to your brother bitching me out."

His words confused me—so I didn't acknowledge them, responding to his first question instead. "She was a good woman from what I've heard—she may have done some things people didn't approve of, but I suppose it is hard to please everyone when you are a queen."

"Truer words have never been spoken. It was you, wasn't it? Who put the flowers in her urn? Normally I'm the only one who ever visits her." I heard movement as he approached me but I could not see him—not until he was right in front of me and he reached out to take my hand. "You've been crying Angel… why?"

I blushed, my eyes falling to the floor. "No I haven't… I'm fine. Waiting for a headache to hit, but other than that…"

"Lie," he whispered, his other hand reaching up to trace his index finger along my cheek, following the tracks my tears had made. "But we'll come back to that in a minute. Why are you waiting on a headache? Most people try to avoid them."

"I always get them when I have a vision… that's what this is you know… just like the others—" I bit my lip to stop myself from rambling about how often I'd dreamed of him. "It happens sometimes. I've learned to live with it." It was strange that I felt comfortable enough to tell _him_ what I hid from everyone else—but I didn't question it, it just felt… right… to do it.

"Ahhhhh. That's how you got here. I knew I didn't use enough juice to pull you in." He moved closer, so close that my dress brushed against his legs. "Don't think you'll get a headache this time. Call it a hunch but I'm willing to bet my spirit and your…whatever… sort of… merge in this dream. Now back to the tears… why were you crying? And before you try to brush it off again—I can tell when you're not truthful. A persons aura always shows when they're lying. Spirit makes me a walking, talking lie detector."

"Spirit? Like the queen has?"

"Yes… now stop changing the subject and answer the question."

I sighed, irritated that he wouldn't let the subject go. "I fought with my brother. We never fight… it upset me."

"Over what I did." It was a statement, not a question—so I remained silent. His fingertips brushed along my cheek again, the gesture sending a tingle down my spine. "I don't like the thought of you crying and upset because of something I did. It bothers me… though I don't know why."

"I just told you it was because I fought with my brother—"

"Because he was pissed that I kissed you—and he doesn't like me much. Of course, the feeling is mutual, so no harm no foul." He pulled away, releasing my hand, retreating into the darkness. A moment later I heard him pouring another drink; he returned with it in hand. "I'm sorry about that—pissing him off. I didn't know you were his sister. Not that it would have dissuaded me in the slightest, mind you." He winked, his lips curving up in a lazy smile as he raised the glass to his lips, tossing back the contents.

"It's not your fault. I shouldn't have snapped at him—he was just trying to protect me. But I was so angry… I said things to him… things that will probably cause him to fight with Roza."

"I wouldn't worry too much about causing them to fight sweetheart—they won't let anything or anyone come between them. Epic love written in the stars and all that bullshit."

There was a note of bitterness in his voice that I didn't understand, but before I could comment on it he moved, depositing the glass on the table beside his aunt's photograph, his hands sliding around my waist. "Didn't get a chance to dance with you before your brother went all U.S.S.R and manhandled you out of the ballroom… how about it?"

"But… there's no music." My lips twitched up in a smile as I studied his face, searching for a hint of teasing.

"Oh Angel—you've got a lot to learn about dreams… especially the ones you share with me." He closed his eyes, his brow wrinkling—and a moment later the soft sound of harps and strings echoed through the room. His eyes flicked open, sparkling with mischief as he smiled at me, his hands gripping me a little tighter. "Now… about that dance?"

I laughed softly, sliding my arms around his shoulders, my fingers instantly seeking out the soft skin at the base of his neck; I knew how to do this kind of dancing, so there was none of the fear and uncertainty I'd experienced in the ballroom. "This music… it's familiar. What is it?"

"Hmmm? Oh… it's from a movie I watched with my cousin a while back. Lissa is crazy about the animated ones… watches them over and over. I thought it was appropriate since we're in a dream." His head ducked down, lips brushing against my tear stained cheek as we swayed to the music. "It's the one about a princess that falls asleep…" his words were a soft whisper against my skin, "waiting for her prince to wake her up… with a kiss."

His lips brushed mine, gentle and soft at first, then moving with more intensity when I didn't pull away; I made a hushed sound of pleasure against his mouth as the strange electric feeling returned, tickling along my spine. It was easy to forget about how embarrassed I'd been at the party, or even how upset the fight with my brother had made me; everything faded away except the feeling of his lips against mine and the way his strong hands moved up and down my back, pulling me closer.

Just like in the ballroom, time slowed to a crawl; hours could have slipped by while we were unaware, lost in our shared kisses and tentative caresses as we slowly moved to the music. Eventually our embraces grew bolder; my fingers tangled in his hair, his mouth traveling down my neck as his hands slid down to tightly grip my ass—I took a shaking breath, my heart beating so frantically that I was sure he could feel my pulse pounding against his lips.

"You're so beautiful… a beautiful dream." Warm breath tickled against my skin when he whispered in my ear—then his mouth reclaimed mine, his hungry kisses leaving me dizzy. His hands ran through my hair, fingers gently massaging my scalp as he tilted my head, deepening our kiss; I opened my mouth to him, moaning softly as his tongue caressed mine. I mimicked the action, my tongue accidentally grazing against his fang; it seasoned our kiss with a hint of my blood, making him groan, pulling me even closer, flush against his body.

But then… he pulled away, stepping back to increase the distance between our bodies..

"We have to stop. Now. This… it's wrong."

"Wha—no!" Don't say that!" I tried to tug him back so I could reclaim his lips; a moment before I had felt exactly how his body was reacting to me—and it filled me with an aching need that was almost too much to bear. He resisted, refusing to move closer. "But… why?"

"You're brother… he's right. I'm no good. Not for someone like you, Angel." The look of intense sadness on his face only increased my desire to kiss him; I wanted to wipe away the sorrow, replacing it with the carefree smile he'd worn the first time I saw him—when I'd turned around at the party and he was there, in front of me, my dream brought to life.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? All you men, thinking you know what is right for me—never considering that I might know exactly what I want."

His green eyes locked with mine, his expression torn. "And what would that be?"

"Kiss me again… and I'll tell you. That is the price for knowing my secret… and I promise, it is worth it."

He smiled—which was exactly the reaction I'd been aiming for. "An offer like that is hard to refuse."

"Then don't waste time trying." I closed the distance between us; reaching up , I laced my fingers through his soft dark hair, tugging his head down as I tilted my face to kiss him—for once, happy about my height. He was tall, but so was I; we fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle that were meant to be conjoined.

It was unlike me to be so forward; I suppose it was the effect he had on me, leaving me craving more and more of him. It was an urge I _had_ to satisfy—but just as his lips met mine… someone knocked on his door.

"Don't answer it," I whispered against his lips, my fingers tracing gentle patterns along the small of his back. "Maybe they will go away."

"It's not my door they're knocking on sweetheart—it's yours. You're about to wake up."

No sooner did he say it then I felt myself… fading—becoming less aware of the dream and more aware of reality; I fought against it just as hard as I'd fought Roza to return to his side, clinging to him with all my strength—but it was no use. The room around me dimmed, the music disappearing; the last thing I heard before completely waking was his voice—a soft, sad whisper.

"Goodbye, Angel."

I sat up so fast I toppled off the couch, slamming face first into the floor. The string of curses I let out in my native tongue would have made my mama blush to hear—and earn me a mouth full of soap from my grandmother.

The knocking—or I should say _pounding_,because that's what it was—had become rather insistent; it was so loud that I was surprised none of the other tenants on the floor had called in a noise complaint. Pushing myself to my feet, I stumbled over, still groggy and half reeling from what I'd experienced. I wasn't surprised at who it was—deep down I had known my brother wouldn't heed my request to leave me in peace for the rest of the night.

"What part of leave me alone did you not understand? Perhaps I should have said it in Russian?"

"I wanted to make sure you were…" his voice trailed off, eyes narrowing. "Who is in there with you?"

"No one! I was asleep!"

"In your dress? With your hair all mussed and your face looking like that?" He pushed past me, storming into the apartment, eyes darting around the room. "Where is he?"

"You have lost your mind—or you are drunk." I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "There is no one here but me—I fell asleep on the couch, exhausted from crying."

"Don't lie to me Viktoria!" He moved to the bedroom, turning on the light; a moment later, I heard him opening the closet, and then move to check the bathroom.

"Satisfied?" I asked sarcastically when he walked back into the room.

He wasn't—not until he opened the window and leaned out to make sure there were no male visitors dangling from the narrow ledge. "Who was it? Ivashkov?"

"Dimitri—stop. You are acting crazy! There was no one here but me and—" I gasped as he grabbed me, spinning me around to face the large mirror behind the door.

"I know what a girl looks like when she has been… entertaining, Viktoria."

My eyes locked with his angry ones in the reflection before dropping to look at my face; I struggled not to let the surprise I felt betray me. My lips were swollen and tender looking, and the skin around them was red—somehow… I was showing physical signs of what had happened in a _dream._

My eyes darted back up to lock with his, just as dark and furious as his were. "I am trying to be civil, brother, but you are making it very hard. You burst in here, insinuating I am lying—when I owe you no explanation for anything. I will tell you one last time—I swear before God above that I was _alone _and _asleep. _ I do not know why my lips are swollen unless perhaps I hurt them in the fight with Roza. My skin is blotchy and red from the tears I shed—over fighting with _you. _And I swear to you that if I have to involve Mama in this problem between us _I will—_because I refuse to be bullied by you! Never in my life did I imagine that I would fear my own, sweet brother the way I did our father—but right now… I do. You are not yourself—not the Dimitri I know and love more than anything!"

His jaw tightened and he winced; I knew it hurt him to be compared to the man we both hated—but I had to speak the truth. Furious, hurt tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over to trail down my cheeks; in the mirror, his face softened, then his chin dropped down to rest against the top of my head.

"I am sorry, kotyonok. There is… so much you do not understand." His grip on me relaxed; I turned, wrapping my arms around him, my face pressed against his chest. "Please… may I have five minutes? Just five… then I will leave you alone."

I pulled back, nodding, my fingers lacing through his; I was still angry, but some things were more important than foolish pride. What the people at Court thought of me did not really matter—I couldn't let what had happened come between me and Dimitri. He was my brother… and I would suffer a thousand humiliations to have him as he was—here beside me, whole and alive. We walked over to the couch and I curled up at his side, waiting for his explanation.

"This… it is hard for me to say, Vika… so please do not interrupt. When I was restored… it brought me back and returned my soul, but traces of what I was still linger, deep inside me. It is one of the reasons I fought so hard against Roza, trying to push her away—I didn't want her to suffer. Being turned… it affected me in ways you could never imagine. I think that as a Strigoi… the parts of me that I inherited from our father surfaced. I was cold, and cruel—I wanted to rule the world. I wanted to control everything and everyone, making them bow before me, with Roza as my dark queen." His arm slid around me, holding me tight. "I was very, very possessive of the things that I saw as mine. I wanted to keep them safe—although I didn't understand _why_ it was important to me. It was like that with Roza… and with you too. There were times I went to Saint Basil's and stood outside the wards…needing to reassure myself that _my_ sister was safe. That is part of why I am so protective now. It is not an excuse for my actions… but an explanation. That protective, possessive instinct that awoke when I was Strigoi… it is one of the things that lingers on… and I do not think it will ever completely go away."

I studied his somber expression, wondering if I could speak. "But… I danced with a lot of people at the party and you weren't like this about them. Was it because he kissed me?"

He sighed, stroking my hair. "There is… a great deal of history between Adrian and me, kotyonok—and it is mostly bad. He hates me for things that happened—with good reason—and he is very, very bitter. For a while… he was actually someone I was beginning to admire, but his anger has made him revert to what he used to be—a Royal who cares about nothing other than his own pleasure. He is looking for a way to get back at me… to make me feel the same pain he did… and I refuse to let you get hurt in the process."

It was on the tip of my tongue to disagree—he cared about his Aunt and about doing the right thing—but I stayed silent; there was no way I could explain how I knew such things without betraying the dream I had shared with the man he disliked so much.

"You were right… you are an adult now, but you are still my baby sister—and that is why I cannot allow you to do something that will cause you pain in the long run, Vika."

"I understand." And I did—like any future visits to the garden, anything I shared with Adrian would have to be kept a secret. "Thank you for trusting me enough to be honest with me Dimk—" I caught myself on the verge of using the old, familiar nickname. But what should I call him if he hated that one so much? "Mitya."

"Mitya… I like that very much. It is what our cousin used to call me when he came to visit—when you were just a tiny thing." His lips pressed against my forehead, then he pulled away and stood. "I will let you get back to your sleep, sister. You will need as much of it as you can get—in a few days we begin training."

I groaned, flopping over on the couch and burying my head in my arms. "Already? I think you will be very hard on me, yes?"

He chuckled, pausing at the door. "Not too hard—and I want you to teach Roza that move you used tonight. She is in a snit that you pinned her—I'm the only one that usually can."

I lifted my head, smiling at him. "Why haven't you showed it to her yourself? I learned it from you."

"You may have used it against me a time or two, but you came up with it on your own." He smiled, tapping the locks as he opened the door. "Lock up behind me—I won't bother you again tonight."

I stood, making my way to the door, leaning against it, watching him walk off down the hall. "Dimitri?"

"Yes?" He turned, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

"I love you… please remember that. No matter how angry you might make me… I love you always."

"I know kotyonok. I love you too. Goodnight."

I watched him board the elevator, then shut the door and fastened the locks. Eyeing the clock, I waited, watching it's hands slowly turn; when fifteen minutes had passed, I hurried into the bedroom, exchanging my fancy ball gown for a t-shirt, sneakers and jeans. I glanced in the mirror, giving myself a cursory one over as I smoothed down my hair—but I had the strangest sense that somehow, my outfit was incomplete. It was a little itching feeling in the back of my mind, growing stronger the longer I stood there; on a hunch I opened the tiny box that held my jewelry, sifting through the items inside and looking for something to add—but nothing seemed right… not until my hand dropped down to the drawer where I'd hidden away the heirloom that Yeva had given me. There was no way the ring would fit on my finger, so I slipped it on a silver chain, tucking it inside my shirt so it rested against my skin—and just like that, the prickling in my mind eased. Finally, I was ready to go—or as ready as I'd ever be.

I threw open the window, studying the nearest tree. It would be risky; if I fell, I would most assuredly end up with several broken bones—or worse—but if I wanted to see Adrian, it had to be done. Taking a deep breath, I climbed out on the tiny ledge, focusing on the branch I was aiming for. I centered myself, slowing my breathing… and then I jumped.

For a millisecond, I panicked. In midair, my brain started screaming that I had miscalculated my leap, telling me to grab on to something—but I forced myself to concentrate, knowing the slightest shift would alter my momentum, resulting in a nasty fall. My hands hit the thick branch, bark abrading my palms; I latched on to it, hanging suspended for a moment before pulling myself up.

Taking a second to catch my breath, I closed my eyes and leaned against the trunk; the leap had been extremely foolish and risky—but exhilarating too. Climbing down was the easy part—just lowering myself, hand over hand—then the ground was beneath my feet and I was brushing myself off, congratulating myself on my success.

"That… was fucking stupid, kid."

I shrieked, instinctively whirling around and lashing out at the voices owner; there had been no one beneath me as I'd climbed—I had made a point to stop and check from time to time, on the lookout for guardians on patrol. My fist was caught in an iron grip, then released almost immediately.

"Calm down—I'm not going to hurt you." Abe leaned back against the tree, looking at me like I was a spooked horse that might bolt. "In fact… you might say I'm here to help you stage a jail break."

"I cannot afford your kind of help, Mr. Mazur." I glanced around, hoping the noise I'd made hadn't attracted attention.

"Consider this a freebie."

"Why would you do that? It makes no sense—surely you side with Roza and Dimitri…"

"I love my daughter—and I've grown pretty attached to your brother, but they're not always right. Sometimes things aren't just black and white—there are shades of gray in between."

"Just the same—I think I can manage on my own, thank you. I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"Bang up job you're doing—you realize you almost missed that branch by a mile? If it hadn't been for my intervention, you'd have been kissing concrete." He smirked, glancing up at the tree; the limb I had landed on shook, shifting before my eyes, moving farther away from my window.

Realizing my initial reaction had been right—that I'd almost fallen several stories down—made me feel dizzy; I sank down on the grass at his feet, waiting for it to pass. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Tell me… are you running away?"

"No… I just wanted to go for a walk. To clear my head."

He frowned, shaking his head. "Rule number one—don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"You are. Tell me, aren't you wondering why I left a party I've been planning for months? I assure you, it wasn't because I felt some deep, burning need to check up on you."

I eyed him, wondering what he was getting at. "So? Why _are _ you here?"

"Your grandmother was rather insistent that her little kitten needed help. Despite getting that dress—I still owe her… and I don't like being indebted. Not to mention it's the least I can do after that stunt you pulled with Janine—she agreed to go out to dinner with me."

"Consider it a freebie," I muttered, climbing to my feet, trying to ignore how hot my cheeks felt at having been caught in a lie. "What did Grandmother say?"

"A load of mumbo jumbo that only a mystic could decipher—but that doesn't matter. First things first—there's something I have to make sure of before I help you." He pushed away from the tree, circling me—like a shark that smelled blood in the water. "I'm rather fond of Adrian… he's almost like a son. But—"

"I said I don't need your help," I snapped, turning to keep him in my line of sight.

"You do—how were you planning on finding him? Enlighten me—you can consider it repayment for me moving the branch and saving your ass."

"I know his apartment overlooks his Aunt's garden."

"So—what? You planning on knocking on every door in the building? Brilliant idea—I'm sure when the residents call the Guardians complaining about the Russian girl disturbing them in the middle of the night Dimitri won't suspect it's you."

I kept my mouth shut since that was pretty much what I'd been planning to do—though I'd planned on sticking to the upper floors.

"No smart quip? I'm disappointed." He studied me for a minute, shaking his head. "Adrian has been hurt enough without being exposed to someone who's only interest in him is what he is… _who_ he is. That night in Baia… you seemed to be headed down the path towards becoming the sort of girl who would throw herself on anyone with a title or pair of fangs—"

"I was not! It was just a party and I thought—" I bit my lip, cutting myself off—on the verge of revealing too much. He didn't need to know about my dreams or how I'd mistakenly thought Rolan was the one in them. "It was a mistake… with Rolan. He was the first Moroi boy I ever dated—and besides, tonight… Adrian approached _me_—not the other way around. I didn't even know who he was or anything about him—I don't care who his family is, Mr. Mazur… I just… I _ need_ to see him. When he kissed me… I understood your lesson." I stared at him, willing him to see that I was telling the truth. "I needed his kisses more than air."

He studied me for a minute, then slowly nodded, raising his hand in a beckoning gesture. Pavel appeared, nodding in my direction and smiling before he took a slip of paper from Abe's outstretched hand and headed for the building I'd just escaped from. "Pavel will station himself outside your door and inform anyone who might come to check on you that you're sleeping, He's there at your grandmother's request to make sure you are undisturbed… and that you don't leave—at least, that's what he'll tell them."

I arched my brow, looking pointedly at the tree. "As if he could stop me? I escaped once, didn't I?"

"Don't fool yourself, kid. If I actually wanted you to stay in that apartment—you'd stay. He'd be inside with you… and we both know from experience that he's not above using force to make sure you do what I want." He turned and began to walk away, then paused, looking back over his shoulder and jerking his head. "Well? Are you coming—or not?"

I shifted from one foot to the other, still not sure I could trust him. "I—"

"Kid, I don't have all night to play cupid—I was in the middle of teaching your mother the Kasap havasi when Yeva pulled me away."

"What will he do if Dimitri comes back and insists on seeing me? He said he wouldn't but…" My voice trailed off, not wanting to betray my brother's trust about the possessive side of his nature, "I already asked him to leave me alone when we fought, but he came back anyway." I fell into step beside him, staring down at the path.

"The secret to being sneaky is always having a game plan. Pavel will tell him to take it up with your grandma—and hand him the note she gave me. Somehow I think that will convince him to ease up—she can be almost as scary as me. Not to mention I have a feeling Rose will keep him busy—she's probably feeling a bit insecure after what happened with you."

"I would think that you would be angry with me… for attacking your daughter." I kept my eyes on the ground, afraid to glance over at him.

He laughed, surprising me. "What—you pinning her? Trust me, little Vika, that was a good thing. Rose is used to being the very best—she thinks Belikov is the only dhampir alive that can take her… and when you're the best… you get complacent. You _need_ someone to keep you on your toes. That's what you did tonight—reminded her that even the best can be taken down when they least expect it."

"I think I got lucky—she wasn't expecting me to hurt her."

"But you would have, wouldn't you?" He glanced over at me, smiling. "That's another reason I'm taking you to him, kid. I saw how determined you were to get back to him. He needs that… someone willing to fight for him. Since Tati died… he hasn't got anyone."

My eyes widened as the pieces clicked in my head—the former queen was the woman he'd been speaking of before… the one who'd been in love with him. I didn't say anything, but I wondered how their story had ended—not that I'd ever ask. We fell into an uncomfortable silence—at least, that's how it felt for me; looking at the man beside me, you'd have thought we were out for a leisurely stroll, with no set destination in mind. I was already nervous, but the closer we got to Adrian's building, the more my stomach tensed. When we passed the hedge surrounding the garden, my eyes darted up to the darkened windows that overlooked it, wondering which one was his.

"Seventh floor," Abe offered, without even looking at me, "apartment 108."

My eyes automatically locked on the correct window, wondering if he could see us coming—was he even still at home? "My brother and Roza… they seem to have a very bad opinion of him, but I don't understand why."

"Not my place to tell you." He stopped a few feet away from the entrance, holding out his hand. "I've done my duty, Miss Belikova—I hope you find what you came for and enjoy your evening."

I slid my hand into his, giving him a tiny bow "Thank you very much sir, I—Mr. Mazur!"

He laughed as I stared down at the object he'd pressed against my palm. "I told you to call me Abe, kid. Don't look so scandalized—I remember what it's like to be young and have stardust in your eyes. You forget about the little things like playing it safe… or the fact you actually need air."

He smirked, walking away, leaving me to stare red cheeked and dumbfounded at the packet in my hand. The door to the building opened behind me, spurring me into action; I shoved the condom in my back pocket, eyes downcast as I stepped past the couple that had come out, hooking my fingers around the door before it could completely closed. With each step I took, the burning inside me grew—until I was practically running up the stairs and down the twisting hallway that led to his apartment. Then I was there—just a few feet away from him, separated by only a door.

I leaned my forehead against it, trying to calm my breathing; a wave of self-doubt washed over me, making me second-guess my plan. Should I have taken more time primping, choosing something more becoming than the outfit I had on? He'd seen me in the dress that made me beautiful—would he still want me, looking plain and unattractive, wearing a t-shirt and jeans? They were stupid, foolish thoughts that I chastised myself for—after all, I couldn't have exactly made it down the tree wearing one of the dresses Lissa had bought me and a pair of high heeled shoes.

I felt like I stood there leaning against the door for hours, trying to summon up the courage to raise my hand and knock—but in reality it couldn't have been more than a minute or two, tops. In the end, the choice was taken out of my hands, before I could make up my mind. Sometimes… fate doesn't like to be kept waiting.

The door opened and I spilled forward, trying to regain my balance so I wouldn't hit the floor; his arms shot out—first to steady me, then to pull me to close.

"You shouldn't have come."

"Tell me to go away and I will." I stared at him, my eyes locked on his, watching as he fought with himself, trying to do what he believed was right.

He lost the battle.

"I can't" His lips found mine, soft and gentle—even more magical feeling than the kisses we'd shared in the dream. All my worries and fears slid away as his mouth moved against mine; nothing mattered but the moment we were in—and the way we made each other feel.

I've had kisses before—many more than I care to admit, but compared to what we shared? They were nothing—inconsequential, silly things, perhaps preparing me for _this. _ They never made my heart race or made me forget how to breathe; they hadn't awakened every single cell in my body, making tiny surges of energy dance along my skin—and they never completely erased my worries and doubts the way Adrian's kisses did. Before, my mind has always been full of questions—Why was I kissing someone I didn't really like? Were we moving too fast? Where should my hands go… what happens next?—but with him… I just _knew._ It was like the dance with Abe—my body followed my partner's lead. I was like an instrument finely tuned, waiting for his touch to awaken me so we could make a beautiful melody.

Our mouths met with a desperate hunger as he tugged me inside, kicking the door shut behind us: my fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, made clumsy by my need for him. They were far too slow, frustrating me—I only made it to the third button before my patience gave way; giving up, I grabbed the material and gave it a vicious yank.

He chuckled softly as the buttons went flying, whispering against my mouth as his fingers dug into my hips. "Feeling destructive, Angel?"

His laughter trailed off, becoming a low moan as my palms slid across the smooth, his pale skin of his chest. 'I'll fix it later," I murmured against his lips, fingers tracing across the fine line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his dress slacks. "I have a needle and thread in my suitcase."

''You... sew?" He pulled back, looking surprised.

"Of course I do." I tugged him back down, my lips skimming along his jaw.

He made an appreciative sound, fingers slipping beneath my shirt to trace along my spine. "What else?"

"I can cook... clean.." my mouth found his again, teeth grazing his lower lip. "Does that surprise you?'

"Mhmmm. Not many girls do those things. Not the ones around here, anyway."

I chuckled, dropping my head back so I could gaze up into his eyes. "I'm not from around here—in case you didn't notice."

"Angel, I—" he whispered, but it wasn't time for words. I had waited four years to be with the boy from my dreams—and I wasn't about to waste a single second more or give him time to grapple with his conscious.

I took advantage of the moment, reclaiming his mouth, my tongue brushing against his. His arms tightened around me for a moment, then his hands hooked the hem of my t-shirt, lifting it over my head. I arched into him, gasping at the feeling of his skin pressed against mine. When he dropped his head to trail his lips along the swell of my breasts, I couldn't contain a hushed moan of pleasure. I'd never imagined I could feel the way I did—absolutely desperate to have as much of him pressed against me as I could. Suddenly, I was profoundly glad that I'd never given in to Rolan's pressuring when he'd tried to lure me to his bed—I would have wasted myself on the completely wrong person when I was meant for _this. _ Perhaps people would call me a slut or a whore for my actions, but I just didn't care, because deep inside, _I_ knew it was the _right_ thing to do. I felt a prickling inside my head—my gift, confirming I was right. Adrian… was meant to be my first.

"I want you," I whispered softly.

He smiled, straightening up and trailing his fingers along my cheek. "You've got me, Angel—I'm right here."

"That's not what I mean," I could feel my cheeks flush with color, but I didn't know what to say. I reached into my pocket, pulling out Abe's small gift, offering it to him. "I want to _be_ with you."

He stared down at my outstretched hand, then his green eyes darted up to mine. "Are you sure? We don't have to rush things—"

"I _want_ to." My hands slid down to his belt buckle, then stopped, realizing he might not feel the same. "Unless…you don't want me?"

"I'm trying to do the right thing—but you're making it pretty damned hard on me." He frowned, his forehead wrinkling up as if he were confused.

A wash of misery hit me, making it hard to speak. He didn't want me—why would he? He could have anyone. I'd assumed too much, based on nothing more than my stupid, idiotic dreams. I stooped down, picking up my shirt, holding it in front of me. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to throw myself at you. I should go—"

He grabbed me, his mouth crushing down against mine so hard my teeth bit into the tender skin inside my lips, then he was hoisting me up into his arms and heading for his bedroom. It was all the answer I needed, erasing my fears and doubts before they could fully take root. I clung to him, nuzzling his neck; I could feel his pulse racing against my lips—his heart beating just as fast and frantically as mine.

When he gently laid me on his bed, he hovered over me for a moment, eyes completely serious as they stared down into mine. "You can change your mind anytime you want… just say the word and I'll stop and you can leave."

"After all the trouble I went to just to get here? You must be crazy if you think I'd leave." I traced my fingers along his bottom lip, smiling at his intensity.

"I am crazy—but that doesn't change the fact I'll stop if you tell me to." His lips brushed against mine in the most sweet, innocent kiss, then his hands slid down, fingers splayed—chill bumps dancing along my skin in their wake. Popping the clasp that was nestled between my breasts, his eyes darted up to my face—watching to see if I'd change my mind.

I didn't.

I trembled, waiting for him to touch me, but he just gazed down at me with the strangest look on his face; it was an emotion I couldn't place—something like wonder—as his eyes roamed across my skin. "I want to paint you," he whispered, "in a misty field, with the sun just beginning to rise. All pinks and blues and shades of gold—I'll call it 'An Angel's birth'."

I reached up, trying to pull him towards me. "It sounds beautiful."

"It will be—because it's about you." His hands slid along my waist, moving slowly, an inch at a time; I arched up, impatient—and he responded, his fingers creeping up over my breasts, thumbs rolling across my nipples. I cried out his name, digging my fingers into his shoulders, unable to believe how good it felt to have him touch me.

His head ducked down, lips repeating the gesture, then his tongue flicked out across my sensitive skin; I arched up again, pressing myself against him as he took my breast in his mouth. It was almost too much pleasure to bear—I whimpered, tugging at his hair. I wanted the feeling to last forever—but at the same time, I wanted to give him pleasure too. He pulled back completely, standing up—and I thought he had changed his mind.

"Don't stop! Not now!"

"Relax… I'm just making you more comfortable, sweetheart." He shrugged off his shirt, then bent to pull off my shoes and socks, dropping them to the floor, pressing a gentle kiss against my instep before his hands slid up to pop the button on my jeans. The zipper went next, then he was pulling them off my hips, making a sound of pleasure at the sight of the lacy panties Lissa had surprised me with. "I feel like this is a dream," he whispered, his fingers sliding up my thigh. "One I don't want to wake up from."

"We did that already," I said, my tone light and teasing, "Remember? I got woken up." I sat up, scooting towards him, jerking at his belt. "These need to come off right now. I want to see you… touch you. Please?"

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss me as he did what I requested; the material was shoved down his legs, giving me an unhampered view. I pulled back, letting my eyes roam down his body, feeling a little stunned. Though I didn't have much experienced, I'd seen enough Moroi boys to know that he was remarkably toned. His chest and abdomen actually showed muscle definition—looking almost as cut as some of the dhampirs in my class. I reached out, letting my fingers stroke along the indented muscles of his abdomen, then I took his firm length in my hand, earning a low moan as my palm slid along his warm, smooth skin. "Your body… is amazing."

He moved so suddenly it startled me—pushing me back onto the bed and pressing the full length of his body against mine. We laid there for a moment, not moving—just enjoying the feeling of how our bodies molded against each other—then he gave me a devilish smile before sliding down my body, leaving soft kisses as he went. I moaned with each teasing brush of his lips, gasping when his tongue darted out , swiping against my skin; there wasn't a single inch of me that he didn't pay attention to—then his hand slid between my legs, fingers brushing up against my panties.

It felt like every single nerve ending in my body had relocated itself to the place where he was touching, leaving me shaky and breathless. His fingers traced along the lace, then pushed the material aside, exploring and caressing parts of me that no man had ever seen. "God… you're already so wet…" he mumbled, his voice low and husky, "and I haven't even started yet."

I was about to ask what he meant, when a finger slid inside me; I arched up off the bed, gasping as my body quivered with need. When he added a second finger, I moaned, thrusting my hips up against his hand; something low in my body was tightening, like a coiling pressure that grew and grew with each gently thrust of his fingers. My hands tightened in his hair as I writhed against his palm—then his fingers slid away and his head dropped down, his eyes still locked on my face.

"What… what are you doing?"

"Three guesses." I opened my mouth, but he spread my legs wider, hands sliding underneath my ass as he lifted my hips—then his mouth was on me, kissing the spot where his fingers had been… and I lost the ability to think.

My body jerked as he ripped away the flimsy lace that covered me; his lips pressed against my wetness, kissing me there with the same hunger and intensity that he'd used when he'd kissed my mouth. His tongue swiped out, licking and probing—it hit a spot that made me cry out, his fingers rejoining his sensual game.

The sensation was overwhelming, so intense that it danced along a tightrope, just this side of pain. It was a pleasure so great that it almost hurt, though I didn't want it to end. I could feel my pulse pounding between my legs, as if my body was throbbing in time with my beating heart. I called out his name tugging at his hair and finally, he stopped—but still the pressure inside me grew. He moved up to hover over me, his green eyes dark, filled with lust and need and something else so overwhelming that I couldn't comprehend it; for an endless moment we stared at each other, then his lips were on mine and he shifted his hips, finally sliding into me.

I moaned in pleasure at having him fill me as my body clenched around him; it felt so good that I barely noticed the brief flicker of pain—but somehow, _he _ noticed. Tearing his lips from mine, his eyes went wide with surprise; he froze, staring down at me with a look of shock on his face.

"Angel… you…"

"Shhh. Don't stop. Please."

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, guilt chasing away the hunger that had filled his eyes before.

"It's fine… I promise." I bumped my hips up against him, shifting to slide my legs over his hips so I could cradle him against my body—but still he didn't move. I searched my mind for the right thing to say—it popped into my head instantly, ringing out in a way I was beginning to recognize as a sign from somewhere above. "I've been dreaming about _you_ for almost four years… vision dreams, moy Dusha. It was _meant_ to be you."

Emotions flowed across his face so fast that it was hard for me to decipher them; there was awe and astonishment and tenderness, then they were slowly replaced by need. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss against my lips—and he began to move.

I slid my hands down, grasping his firm rear as he slowly found his rhythm; one thrust, then two—I raised my hips up to meet him and we began to match our pace. Our movements were in perfect synergy as we rocked together, clinging to each other as we satisfied the overwhelming, burning need that threatened to consume us. I could feel the tension in his muscles as my fingers moved up his spine; he was trying to hold back, but I didn't understand why. I tightened my legs around him—the movement shifted my position and he brushed against me in a way that made the growing pressure within me implode; my body spasmed, tightening around him as an intense wave of pleasure hit, bowing my spine up off the bed as I pressed my head back against the pillows. Flashes of color danced behind my eyes and I was soaring—like my soul had grown too big for my body and was drifting in midair. I cried out for him—but it wasn't his name I said; it was the name my vision had given him, the one that seemed so right. My muscles locked up as wave after wave of bliss hit me—my body clenching around him with each beat of my heart. He let out a low, deep moan, and his warmth filled me as he climaxed, his hips thrusting even faster —it set me off again, another orgasm hitting just as intense as the first. I was still shaking when he slowly lost his rhythm; he collapsed on top of me, whispering 'Angel', then we lay there, bodies entwined, lips brushing and hands caressing as we relearned how to breathe.

I was so exhausted I could barely move, filled with a languorous feeling, like a contented cat, dozing in a sunny window sill; somehow, Adrian found the strength to roll us over so I lay atop his chest. As our bodies moved, another wave of pleasure hit me—less intense than the first, but still enough to make my body tighten around him; it pulled a groan from his throat, then he chuckled softly as I quivered and twitched above him.

"Are you… okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" His fingers gently moved along my back, tracing the path of my spine.

"I'm… wonderful. Sort of floating." I mumbled, pressing my lips against his neck; my tongue darted out to swipe along his skin, tasting the tiny beads of sweat that covered him. He moaned, tilting his head to the side to give me better access; I grazed him gently with my teeth, then nibbled at the soft spot just below his ear. I wanted to explore every inch of him the same way he'd explored me, but unfortunately, it would have to wait until I had the strength to move.

"You'll probably be sore later…" His voice held a touch of worry that made me smile; something twisted in my chest at the concern he was showing—it made me light up inside. "I'm sorry. I didn't know… if I had… I would have—"

"I have spent most of my life training, Dusha—pushing my body past its breaking point. I swear to you that I feel more pain from a single class than I did when you slid inside of me." I propped myself up on my elbow, gazing down at him. My hair hung around us like a veil, making him smile. "Haven't you ever been with a dhampir before? We're pretty resilient."

"I came close once… but didn't seal the deal." Pain flickered across his face, then vanished, replaced by a tight lipped, wry sort of smile. "Of course, most of the time when I have sex… I'm so drunk I barely recollect it. There could have been fifty dhampirs for all I know—they always leave as soon as we're finished…by the time I wake up, and I don't even remember their faces or names."

I didn't like the thought of him being with other women—stupid, I know, but true. He was a skilled attentive lover, so it was obvious he'd had practice, but just thinking about those nameless, faceless women dimmed my contented mood. "You've been with fifty women?"

"Way more than that—probably in the last few months alone." He stared up at the ceiling, brow crinkling as he frowned. "You shouldn't have wasted yourself on me, Angel. You should have saved it for someone else… someone more worthy of such an amazing gift."

My fingers traced along the edge of his full lips as I tried to hide my frown. "I told you—it was _meant_ to be you. I felt it… if I hadn't… I wouldn't be here right now." I lowered myself back down, nestling my head underneath his chin, wanting to hide my face so he couldn't see the confusion that was dancing through my brain. "Are you… saying you wished it hadn't happened?"

"No…. more like I would have tried to make it special for you if I'd known."

Since I'd thought it had been magical, that comment hurt. A lot. Apparently he hadn't felt the same things I had—hadn't felt the surge of wonder and exquisite perfectness that had accompanied every little touch. When I spoke, it came out sharper than I'd intended, my words colored with a thinly veiled sarcasm that masked the pain I felt. Thankfully, he didn't notice. "I suppose you have a scenario all lined up for virgins."

"Never been with one—at least… I don't think so. I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that. Maybe. You're the first."

I tensed, wondering if there was a hidden reason he kept mentioning all the women he'd been with before me; was he trying to give me a subtle hint that I was just the latest of many? That I would be easily forgotten, once I left his arms—joining all the other meaningless nameless women in his past? I shifted again, suddenly uncomfortable—and at a complete loss as to what I was supposed to do. The feeling of perfect harmony was fading, replaced by an uncertainty that made my heart ache, deep inside my chest. Should I go now—was that what he wanted to happen? It seemed so wrong, somehow, cheapening the beautiful act we'd shared—but if that was what he wanted, then that was what I would do. "Well… at least now you can cross it off your bucket list, right?"

He didn't respond, but the movement of his hands stilled. I could feel him tense beneath me—and I took it as a sign.

Trying not to give in to the tears I felt welling up in my eyes, I shoved my stupid emotions away, locking them up in a tightly sealed box. "I think perhaps I should go… I'm sure you have things—"

"Because I'm that much of an asshole, right?" His fingers tightened, digging into my back as he made a sound of disgust. "Despite what you've probably heard from your brother and Rose—I'm not the kind of guy that takes a girl's innocence and then shoves her out the door."

"My brother didn't say anything, and neither did Roza." He tensed even more, making a sound that was almost an angry sounding growl. My cheeks flushed as I tried to figure out the best way to get off him—I didn't want to cause him pain, and he was still buried deep inside me. "I just thought—"

"That I was going to rush you out the door. That's what Adrian Ivashkov is known for, right? Using girls and kicking them to the curb."

"I don't live here—and until tonight I never even heard your name. I have no idea what your reputation is, other than the things you've told me." Anger welled up inside me, directed at both of us—him for ruining what had been a perfect moment, and at myself for being stupid enough to care. "You keep talking about how all the other women left when you were done, so I thought you wanted me to get out so that you could go to sleep!"

"I did want to sleep—with you beside me. I wanted to wake up and have your face be the first thing I saw." His voice was soft, full of hurt.

A strange rush of happiness filled me up at his words, but I refused to let myself smile. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

"Yeah—really. If you want to leave I won't stop you… but I want you to stay. There may be a lot of women in my past… but tonight… it was special. For me, at least."

My lips twitched up as I lost the battle, a wide smile breaking out across my face. I propped myself back up, gazing into his eyes. "It was for me too. When you said you would have made it special if you'd known… I thought you were saying it hadn't been."

He chuckled, reaching up to tuck my long hair back behind my ear. "Is that why you got so prickly? I only meant that I would have tried to make it more memorable for you. Dinner… flowers. That sort of thing. I mean… what you did… giving your virginity to me… I feel like I didn't give you anything in return."

"You made me feel amazing… beautiful… it was magical." I pressed my lips against his, my heart beginning to race again as he softly kissed me back. "I have to be up early… I snuck out."

He shifted, fiddling with the clock by the bed, then shot me the sweetest smile. "There. Alarm set. We'll be up before anyone else at Court, I promise." His hands returned to my back, resuming their teasing dance along my spine. "Stay with me Angel, please?"

" I would like that… very much." Mind made up, I collapsed on top of him, giggling as he made a dramatic 'oof-ing' sound before rolling us again so that we were side by side, gazing into each other's eyes. His lips turned up in a goofy, euphoric smile—one that I mirrored, so full of happiness that I felt I couldn't contain it.

"That name you called me… the words you used… what do they mean?"

"It came to me at that exact moment… sort of like a vision. It just seemed… right." I blushed, dropping my eyes from his, hoping he would leave it at that.

He didn't. "But what were they? I liked the way they sounded."

"Moy Dusha," I murmured softly.

"And it means?"

"It means… my Spirit." It was partially true, but I felt a surge of guilt for being less than completely honest.

Chuckling softly, he tightened his arms around me, pulling me even closer. "I like that. A lot."

As his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep, I closed my eyes, trying to still the racing of my mind. Like so many Russian words, Dusha had a second translation, but I couldn't tell him that. The name that had rung out in my mind hadn't been 'my _spirit_'—it had been 'my _heart_'. In the space of one evening, my world had completely changed; even though I knew next to nothing about the man beside me—as impossible as it seemed—I was already falling in love with him.

And it scared the living hell out of me—even as it filled me with more joy than I'd ever imagined possible.

* * *

_**A/N: WHOOOO I KEPT IT UNDER 12,000 WORDS! :oD**_

**Dimitri's Secret Lover— you asked: Doesn't Victoria know what happened between rose and adrian? And dimitri between rose Victoria and rolan?**

No, Viktoria has no idea about Rose and Adrian. As far as she knows, Rose has always been with Dimitri. She isn't aware that Rose was involved with anyone else in the interim. And Rose never mentioned what happened with Vika and Rolan to Dimitri—she thought it was Vika's secret to tell.

**Tributeshadow—you asked: I never thought about them together, but it makes so much sense! What made you think of these two together initially?**

From the first time I read Blood Promise, I shipped Adrian and Vika. As soon as Rolan was introduced (and then promptly dismissed), I thought Vika and Adrian would be end game—and that the spin off series would involve them meeting and falling in love despite everyone being against it. Here's the passage that launched the ship for me:

**_ She pointed to two approaching guys. Both were Moroi. Well, who knew? Viktoria's secret boyfriend wasn't a dhampir. I guessed that wasn't too shocking, really, though the way she'd dressed tonight still bothered me. She gave him a fierce hug and introduced us. His friend was named Sergey, and he smiled politely before hurrying inside where he was apparently meeting a girl too._**

**_I had to give Viktoria credit: Rolan was hot. His hair was dark auburn, soft and wavy._**

**_The green of his eyes reminded me-painfully-of Adrian's._**

**_And when he smiled at Viktoria, it was dazzling._**

Kinda sounds like a certain charming spirit user, doesn't it? In fact, RM even made the comparison about their eyes.

;o)


	9. Ch 9: Sweet Confusion, Sweet Illusion

_Dear Diary,_

_I've often wondered what it would be like to wake up in the arms of a lover; I suppose it's something that most girls do, the same way they daydream about a special occasion or what their future children might look like. Every time I thought about the scenario it was different; sometimes it was a lazy morning of cuddling and kissing, the two of us wrapped up in a little cocoon of togetherness—or a slow sleepy lovemaking session before we climbed out of bed. One thing I can say with complete certainty—I never once imagined being rudely disturbed by someone knocking at the door… but unfortunately, that… is what happened._

The sound made me mumble sleepily, cursing in Russian as I burrowed closer to the warm body next to me; I shifted, moving my leg—which was thrown across his hip. The result of my movement woke me up immediately—not an easy task, since I'm not a morning person.

Adrian moaned, burying his face in my neck, his hips rocking forward as he twitched inside of me—which would have been a wonderful thing to wake up to, had someone not been determinedly pounding on his door.

"What time is it?" His voice was muffled, lips tickling against my skin.

"I don't know… I'm afraid to move again," I murmured, my cheeks flushing at the admission.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss against my neck before turning his head towards his nightstand. "Oh… well shit."

"Let me guess…you set it wrong?" At the moment, I didn't particularly care; I was too busy nuzzling along his chest, wondering if I could convince him to ignore whoever was at the door.

"Yeah… but we forgot something."

I propped myself up—whimpering a little when the movement made him harden even more inside of me—to see what he was staring at. The condom Abe had given me—still unopened. "Oh. Shit."

"Mhmm. Unless we want to tempt fate… I think I better…" he moved, sliding out of me—making us both groan.

I felt the loss of him like I would have if one of my own limbs had been taken; it left me feeling empty, like I was missing a major part of myself. "You don't think…"

"It's been known to happen…" he stared at me a minute, his eyes going slightly out of focus. "Your aura looks the same—usually if a woman is pregnant… it shows. We'll just have to be more careful from now on."

The implication that we would be repeating last night's performance made me smile—but it turned into a scowl when the knocking began again. "Maybe you should get that."

"Don't know who in the hell it is… no one ever comes here uninvited." He sat up, reaching down to grab his discarded dress slacks and shimmy into them.

"Except me," I said softly, teasing him.

"You don't count—you have an open invitation, Angel." He ducked his head down to press a gentle kiss against my lips, then turned, walking out of the room, shirtless.

I flopped back on the bed, smiling as I stretched. My brother's warnings had been wrong, Adrian wasn't—

I froze, staring up at the ceiling. My brother. We'd slept late… and Dimitri had probably discovered I was missing. I practically jumped out of bed, grabbing his shirt and wrapping it around myself as I hurried after him—the the threat my brother had made when he'd carried me across court was echoing through my head. "Dusha! Wait—"

Too late—he was opening the door. I hid myself away behind the doorway, listening; if it _was _ Dimitri and things got heated, I would intervene.

"Good morning my boy—did I wake you? So sorry, but I need to speak with Miss Belikova."

I groaned, closing my eyes and lightly banging my head against the wall. What in the hell was Abe Mazur doing here so early in the day?

"Sorry to disappoint you old man—I haven't seen her since her brother went caveman and carried her away last night." Had it been anyone but Abe, the lie would have sounded like the pure, unmitigated truth.

"Now, now… I thought we were friends, Adrian. Friends don't lie to each other."

"Why would I lie about something like that? I—"

When he made a sound of protest, I peeked around the doorframe, watching as the older Moroi pushed past Adrian, walking into the room. He bent down, scooping up the t-shirt I had dropped, studying it intently.

"I don't know… you tell me. If she isn't here, is she running around Court topless?"

"What makes you think that's not mine?"

Abe gave him a pointed look. " Pink isn't really your color, son... and I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything that proclaimed you were..." he examined the shirt, giving a snort of amusement, 'a juicy girl'."

Adrian's eyes darted towards the bedroom, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a secretive grin when his eyes met mine; something about that smile told me he was thinking about what we'd done—and sure enough, the tip of his tongue snaked out, swiping along his lips.

Abe noticed. "Viktoria Belikova… come out come out wherever you are—we need to talk."

I groaned again, wrapping the shirt more firmly around me, then stepped out of my hiding place. My face was hot, letting me know I was probably flushed bright red as I hovered in the doorway. "Good morning, Mr. Mazur."

"I must say, for a teenage girl, your skills at being sneaky are seriously lacking." He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, setting it on the coffee table. " If I'm going to cover for you, I need to be able to reach you. Keep that with you at all times—and answer it when I call. No matter what you might be in the middle of—understand?"

"Since you knew she was here, you could have just called me," Adrian pointed out, plopping down on the couch and reaching for his cigarettes. He lit one, then patted the couch beside him, holding out his hand.

I moved to sit next to him, avoiding Abe's eyes; I didn't regret what I'd done, but a part of me was afraid I would see some sort of judgment in them.

"I tried calling here. Six times. You didn't answer."

"Huh. Ringer must be turned off." Adrian said, grinning.

"We planned to get up early," I mumbled, "the alarm didn't go off."

"Be that as it may, your brother showed up at your apartment an hour ago looking for you."

I panicked, my eyes darting up to meet Abe's. "Does he know? That I'm not there?"

"Yes, but don't worry—unlike you, Pavel is an expert at hiding things. You left early to run errands for me—wanting to work of the cost of the dress I bought you. Your brother was apparently quite impressed at that, though he wasn't too pleased about you being my errand girl." Abe smirked when I sighed with relief.

"I don't get it… why are you helping her?" Adrian's arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"So I'll be in his debt, " I muttered darkly, leaning forward to pick up the phone to examine it. "Isn't that right, Mr. Mazur?"

"If I have to tell you to call me Abe again, Viktoria, I'm going to get angry—and you're wrong. This has nothing to do with racking up favors—and everything to do about righting past wrongs." He glanced over at Adrian, arching one of his eyebrows. "Unless you don't want my help? I could just escort her back to her apartment and leave you two to try and figure things out on your own. Of course, considering how lousy she is at covering her tracks, you'll probably end up get caught as soon as she opens her mouth."

"I see. You feel responsible for… what someone else did." A look of understanding flashed across Adrian's face. "You shouldn't though. You didn't have anything to do with it."

"Didn't I? Who came up with the brilliant plan to send—"

"It doesn't matter." Adrian cut him off, his eyes darting over to me. "Even if you don't help, I'm not going to stop seeing her. If Belikov doesn't like it he can—"

"Noble sentiment, but somehow I don't think having her brother tear you limb from limb is exactly conducive to romance, son." Abe chuckled, walking over to the table in front of the window; he picked up the photograph of Queen Tatiana, studying it with a sad smile on his face. "She was one hell of a woman, wasn't she?"

"She was… but somehow I don't think you mean it in quite the same way I do," Adrian said wryly.

"What am I supposed to be doing for you today?" I put my hand on Adrian's knee, trying to steer the conversation back to something other than Abe's disastrous love affair with the former Queen.

"Picking up my dry cleaning. Doing my grocery shopping. Little tasks that I don't have time to waste doing. Nothing difficult." He set the picture down, glancing at his watch. "Dimitri expects you to meet your family for lunch at the café in two hours—I suggest you don't be late. I think he wants to make sure I'm not working you too hard."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your covering for me." I mentally calculated how long it would take me to run home and shower. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"Don't lie too elaborately. The trick is keeping things simple. That's all there is to it, really. Call me when you're done and fill me in on what you said so our stories match."

As he turned towards the door, Adrian pulled away from me, standing up to hold out his hand. "Thanks for bringing her here."

"I don't have to ask if it was worth it," Abe's eyes darted from Adrian to me, then back again. "I can see for myself that you seem… better."

"Now that you mention it… I am. Haven't even had a drink today—of course there's still time… I've only been up ten minutes. Hang on—I'll walk you out." Adrian smiled at me, then escorted him out into the hall.

I could hear them murmuring quietly as I scooped up my t-shirt from the coffee table where Abe had dropped it, but I didn't stick around to listen. Hurrying back into the bedroom to collect the rest of my clothing, a giggle escaped me at the sight of my panties—they were a lost cause, torn to smithereens. I'd have to do without them. I'd pulled my jeans on and had just fastened my bra when his arm slid around me, dragging me back against his chest.

"I don't want you to leave me." It was a whisper, his lips traveling along my shoulder.

"I don't want to go, but I have to. Otherwise—"

"I know." He gently nipped at my skin. "I could come along… if you want me to."

"I wish you could, but I don't think that's smart, do you? Since we're not supposed to be seeing each other."

"Trust me—they won't know it's me."

"What do you mean?" I frowned, turning around to face him.

"Let me borrow this?" He opened his other hand, holding out the necklace and ring I'd slipped on the night before—it must have come off when he'd slid my shirt over my head and I hadn't even noticed.

"What, we pretend we ran off and got married? Somehow I don't think that will calm my brother down."

He chuckled softly, sliding the ring off the necklace, "Not a bad plan, but I was thinking of something a little more practical. I said they wouldn't know it was me, remember?"

He handed me the necklace, then closed his hand around the ring. A moment later I gasped—he was pulling on his element, but it didn't feel the same way it did when Lissa used it. My skin didn't crawl like I was being swarmed by tiny insects and I didn't feel the heavy, almost drowning sensation in the air—instead it was warm and comforting, dancing along my skin the way his lips had, leaving me tingling all over.

"There." He slid the silver band on the ring finger of his right hand; I tried to ignore the way my heart surged at the sight—as well as the tiny prickle I felt in the back of my brain. He was American, unfamiliar with the customs of my homeland—he had no way of knowing that for us, the right hand was where we wore wedding bands.

"Well, what do you think?"

I tore my eyes away from his hand, confused as to what he meant. "Um… it fits?"

"I meant about how I looked, Angel." He chuckled, both arms sliding around me, pulling me close. "Still want to kiss me, even if I look like a dhampir?"

"Dusha… I still very much want to kiss you—I think nothing could change that. But… I do not know how to tell you this—you could never pass for a dhampir. Your fangs give you away. Not to mention you are a little too pale—we do spend some of our training time outdoors."

He frowned, pulling back to stare down at me. "I look the same?"

"Were you supposed to look different?"

"Well… yeah." He eyed the ring, shaking his head. "It worked… I can feel it. Hang on." He went over to the closet and pulled out a shirt, sliding his arms into it and buttoning it up as he walked. "No offense, but I think I need a second opinion."

"A second opinion on what? That you look like yourself? That makes no sense!" I followed after him, pulling on my own t-shirt as he jerked open the front door. I watched him, wondering what he was up to as he walked across the hall to knock on his neighbors door.

A Moroi woman in her late forties answered, giving us both a polite smile. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am—we need to speak with Lord Ivashkov." He was putting on some kind of accent I didn't recognize—as if that would fool her. "Is he in?"

"No—you have the wrong apartment. He lives across the hall… but he's probably not awake yet. He drinks quite a bit." Her eyes trailed over him—and I didn't like the look of appreciation in them one little bit. "Are you new here Guardian….?"

"Johnson, ma'am." He smiled. "Yes, I am. Just transferred in. Sorry we bothered you."

"Oh it's no bother at all. If you're looking for a charge, I'd be more than happy to—"

"I'm not—I work for Abe Mazur. But thank you." He cut her off, turning away.

She made a dismissive little sniff, eyeing his backside. "Well… if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

I glared daggers at her as she shut the door, ignoring Adrian's soft chuckle. I still didn't understand what was going on, but my irritation at her boldness overrode my confusion. "What was that all about? Does she not know you?"

"She does. In fact, she's bitched me out for being too noisy more times than I can count. Which means... that for some reason…you're not seeing the same thing she is." He steered me back into the apartment, unbuckling his slacks. "I need jeans… Abe's guys don't wear uniforms."

"What is she seeing that I'm not?"

"I look like a dhampir. I used Spirit to change my appearance. It's an illusion—one that'll last as long as I have the ring on. It'll have to be recharged in a day or two, of course."

"Spirit can do that?"

He headed for his bedroom, calling out over his shoulder as he walked "Mhmm. But what I don't understand is—"

"Why I still see _you_." I smiled, already knowing the answer. "Because my gift makes me immune to Spirit illusions. Compulsion too."

"Bullshit."

"No—it's true. I usually have to pretend it works, just so people don't know."

"Why bother?" He reappeared, my socks and sneakers in hand. He'd changed into a pair of faded jeans; I raised my eyebrows and eyed him—they looked extremely good on him.

"Because I don't want people to know I'm different." I shrugged. " I see how they act towards my grandmother… I don't want that."

"She has visions too?

"Yes. She used to make her living reading cards and stuff—when she left the Guardians." I sank down on the couch, pulling my socks on. I still needed a shower, but knew that realistically it would take far too much time for me to dry my hair. Since I'd supposedly been working for Abe all morning, there was no believable reason that I could give to explain showing up to lunch with wet head. "She's the one who made Abe come help me last night—she sensed I was sneaking out."

"I'm surprised you managed to get by your brother. How'd you do it… if you don't mind my asking…" He sat down beside me, lighting another cigarette.

"He wasn't there… but I thought he might come back. So I jumped out the window—there was a tree nearby." He made a strange sound and I looked over at him, wondering why. "What?"

"What floor is your apartment on?"

"The fifth. I—"

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Don't ever do that again, okay? You could have gotten hurt."

I searched his face, smiling softly at the intensity in his eyes. He was worried… about _me. _"I had no choice… I had to be with you."

"Well next time call me and we'll try to figure out another way that doesn't involve risking a five story fall." He released my hand and picked up the phone Abe had given me, fiddling with the screen. "How do you spell 'Dusha'?"

I spelled it for him, feeling a rush of emotion as I watched him. As he concentrated on programing in the information, he worried his lower lip with the tip of his fang—something I found incredibly endearing and sweet. "I wonder… if I snap your picture… would it capture the illusion?"

"Probably not. I'm good, but not that good." He glanced over at me, and smiled. "Why?"

"Because it might be wise for me to know what everyone else is seeing."

"Good point. I'll sketch it out for you later."

I almost asked if that would really help—but I held my tongue, not wanting to hurt his feelings; I couldn't imagine how a rough drawing would show me what others might see—especially since anything I sketched always ended up looking like a child had done it. "For the record, you are better than good…. I think you are pretty great. Last night was… amazing." I blushed, ducking my head down to hide behind my hair. For all my boldness in other areas, talking about what we had shared was completely unchartered territory.

He leaned over, brushing my hair back, then gently turned my face so he could look me in the eye. "I think you're pretty great too."

His mouth found mine, soft and teasing—then deeper, like the kisses the night before. Hungry and needy, as if we were both starving and could somehow only gain the sustenance we needed from the joining of our lips. Before I knew it we were stretched out on the couch; his hands roamed across my body as I tightened my legs around his waist.

"This isn't exactly the state we should be in when we meet up with my family," I murmured, my words muffled against his lips. It was the truth—but it probably would have been more effective if my hips were not rocking up against his as I said it.

He groaned, pulling his mouth from mine and burying his face in my neck. "I don't suppose you could convince them that you're too busy to eat?"

"If I tried they would probably insist on bringing me something." My hands slid up his back, tangling in his hair. "I don't want to go… but after last night… my brother might get suspicious. I'm sure Mama probably already told him that I didn't eat very much yesterday—I wanted to make sure my dress fit."

"Trust me—the dress fit. God… did it ever fit. In all the right places." He bumped his hips against mine teasingly. "See? Just thinking about it affects me."

I laughed, pushing him off me so I could sit up and smooth down my rumpled hair. "It only fit because I had something on underneath it to make me slimmer… sort of like a girdle… but not a girdle, if that makes sense. I think they call it a… minimizer? Dresses made for Moroi women don't seem to leave much room for dhampir curves."

"Personally, I'll take the curves over a stick thin body any day of the week—hands down." He trailed his fingertips down my arm, smiling. "Stop fussing with your hair—it looks great."

"I just don't want to look like I've been having a good time." I winked at him, standing up and stretching. "I am not looking forward to facing Roza after last night. She is probably expecting an apology and I am not about to…" My voice trailed off at the look on his face; there was such a mixture of emotions playing across it that I couldn't decipher them—none except the anger that was shining in his eyes. "Dusha… are you alright?"

"Since you're going to be dealing with Rose Hathaway for the rest of your life, you better learn fast that she's never wrong. Not in her eyes at least." His voice was just as sharp and angry as his eyes.

"So… you don't like her either? It's not just my brother you have a problem with?"

"We used to be friends…I'm the one that paid for her little excursion to Russia. She drained my trust fund—and treated me like shit afterwards. I suppose you could say I dislike her quite a bit.. If my Aunt Tatiana hadn't left me a little something in her will I'd probably be living under a bridge right now, sleeping on a cardboard box." He stood up, reaching for my hand, then hesitated, letting his hand drop to his side. "Sorry—I shouldn't have said that. Like I said… she's a part of your life. You don't need me talking shit about her."

"That's what Abe meant, isn't it…. About righting past wrongs?"

"Mhmm. You could say that." He stared down at the floor, not meeting my eyes.

I reached over and laced my fingers through his, squeezing his hand. "It's alright Dusha… I have my own issues with her. It's not just last night… it is a lot of different things. So how about this—you keep me from attacking her and I will do the same for you?"

He was silent for a minute, then chuckled softly. "You've got a deal—but if you dive across the table after her… I can't make any promises. I need to refill my bank account so I'll probably start taking bets on who'd win the fight."

"Ah… I see. But the question is—who would you bet on?" I gave him a teasing smile, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

He looked up at me, not answering for a minute, then returned my smile. "I like a sure thing Angel—I saw you pin her last night. My money would be on you."

"Good answer." I pulled my hair back, tying it in a loose knot at the base of my neck while he locked up his apartment; it was an attempt to distract myself from thinking about things too deeply. He had said the right thing, but I couldn't help but wonder why a flicker of pain had crossed his handsome face right before he'd answered.

The lunch rush was over by the time we got to the café; my family was gathered around the same large patio table that Mama and Yeva had shared with Roza and Lissa once before. Only one empty chair remained—right next to my brother; Adrian politely pulled it out for me to sit, then pulled up another chair from a nearby table, squeezing in on my other side, right next to my grandmother.

"I am sorry to be late—Mr. Mazur certainly has a lot to keep me busy." I glanced around the table with an apologetic smile on my face—but no one was looking at _me_.

"Manners Vika… introduce us to your friend please." Mama's reproach was soft, her hand going out to shake Adrian's. "I am Viktoria's mother, Olena."

"This is Guardian Johnson. He has been kind enough to escort me today so I wouldn't get lost."

"What a thoughtful gentleman you are." Mama's smile widened as she released his hand.

"I do not remember any new guardians on the roster." Dimitri held out his hand the same way mama had; after a moment's hesitation, Adrian took it, giving it a quick shake. " I am Dimitri, Vika's brother."

"I'm not a staff guardian—in fact… I'm technically not a guardian at all. I work for Abe—but Ms. Belikova didn't feel comfortable calling me by my first name." Adrian leaned back, resting his arm along the back of my chair—a gesture that my brother caught, making him narrow his eyes.

"Vik, that's stupid—if you're both working for my father you might as well call him by his name. Hell, I'm surprised Abe hasn't already jumped your ass about the 'Mr. Mazur' thing." Roza smiled at Adrian, holding out her hand—but he'd averted his eyes, pretending not to see it. She covered her movement by reaching for her coke with her hand—perhaps embarrassed at being left with it hovering over the table. "So what _is_ your name—or do you just want us to call you Johnson?"

"You can call me by my first name—it's Nathan."

She flinched; the glass slid from her hand, soda going everywhere. "God I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz sometimes…"

My brother's arm slid around her as she tried to mop up the mess, his head dropping down to press a kiss against her forehead. "Shhh…. It is alright moya lyubov'. It is just a name."

"I'm sorry—I didn't realize my name was so upsetting. Should I be offended or is there something I'm missing?"

"It is nothing. No offense was meant." Dimitri sounded distracted, too busy trying to calm the woman beside him to pay attention to the rest of us—with good reason. Roza had paled and when she set her glass upright, dropping the spilled ice inside it, I noticed her hand was trembling.

"Roza… what is it?"

She didn't answer me, just shook her head, leaning into my brother.

"That was the name of the one who… turned me. She saw it him attack me… he attacked her in Russia as well. Bad memories. That is all." He scooted closer to her, so close she was almost in his lap, stroking her hair as he whispered soft things to her in Russian.

Adrian tensed beside me. "Sorry about that—I had no way of knowing."

"I'm going to go to the ladies room… I'll be right back." She stood up, almost swaying on her feet before she righted herself, hurrying away from the table.

"Dimitri, you should—"

"No—he cannot go into the ladies room. Viktoria will go make sure she is alright." My grandmother's face was expressionless as she looked at me, waiting for me to move.

I stared back, not wanting to leave, disturbed by the thought of leaving Adrian alone at the table with them. "Maybe she wants to be alone and that is why she excused herself."

"You will go granddaughter. We will get to know your friend." Her eyes fell down to the ring on his finger, her lips curving up in a smile. "Are you married, Guardian Johnson?"

I winced as I stood up, cheeks flushing with embarrassment at her obvious, probing question. As I moved from the table, I brushed my hand against his as discreetly as I could. "I will be right back."

"Take your time—I'll be fine. No, I'm not Ms. Belikova—never even come close."

I glared at my grandmother before I headed inside, relieved to hear my mother turning the conversation to a less personal topic. Roza was standing at the sink, splashing cold water on her face when I entered the ladies room. She gave me a halfhearted smile when I jerked a paper towel out of the dispenser and offered it to her.

"Thanks. Sorry about that—I hope I didn't embarrass you… it just hit me hard. It's like that sometimes… the memories sort of overwhelm me." She dried off her face, chunking the towel in the trash.

"I am sorry you were upset… he did not know."

" I know he didn't, how could he?" She leaned back against the counter, closing her eyes.. "I keep thinking that it'll get better as more time passes—that little things like that will quit bothering me… but it seems like the exact opposite is true. Deep down I'm terrified that something will take him away again—only this time there won't be a second chance."

"He's not going anywhere Roza." I moved over to lean against the counter next to her, studying the tiles underneath our feet. She seemed to harbor no grudge about what had happened the night before—but I still did.

"That's the same thing he keeps telling me… I still can't help but worry, you know?" She sighed, and for a few minutes, neither of us spoke. I was about to suggest we rejoin the others when she bumped me with her shoulder. "Distract me."

"And how am I supposed to do that? Perform a backflip? It's a little too small in here for that."

"Help me get my mind off that night." She smiled, but it was still a little shaky. "Tell me about the hunk."

"Huh?"

"Your new friend—don't tell me you haven't noticed he's hot."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Nothing to tell—he's just making sure I don't get lost."

"Uh huh. Suuuuure he is. That's why he's sitting so close to you, right?"

"In case you didn't notice, the table is crowded."

"Not that crowded. Come on—admit it. He's cute. I know you usually go for Moroi guys but—"

"I do _not_ usually go for Moroi boys. Rolan was the first one I ever went out with," I said, scowling at her.

"Well excuse me—last night you seemed pretty into that kiss and it happened to have been a Moroi you were lip locked with. I thought—"

"You thought wrong. How attracted I am to someone has nothing to do with whether they're a dhampir or a Moroi—and everything to do about their personality."

She laughed. "Yeah right. You said like what… four words to Adrian before you let him—"

"In case I didn't make myself clear last night—what happened is none of your business." I struggled to keep my composure, on the verge of snapping.

"And like I said last night—yeah. It is." She glared at me, all traces of frailty vanishing in the wake of her own temper. "And why the hell does your hair smell like cigarette smoke?"

"I had to pick up a package for your father—it wasn't quite ready and the man was smoking. I had to wait for it."

"Bullshit—that smells like cloves—and there's only one person around here that smokes them. Don't lie to me!"

"I hope you are sufficiently distracted—because this conversation is over." I slammed open the bathroom door so hard that it smacked into the wall leaving a dent.

"That's what you think—just wait until Olena hears about the kind of man he is," she muttered under her breath.

I spun around, almost bumping into her. "You leave my mother out of this! I am capable of making my own decisions—just as capable as you were at my age. So butt the hell out!"

"Roza—Vika… what's going on?"

We both turned to glare at my brother, who took an immediate step back, holding up his hands, his lips twitching up at the corners. "I come in peace—there is no need for either of you to be giving me such evil faces. I wanted to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine. She's the one with a problem." Roza gave me a look, moving over to wrap her arms around his waist.

"Vika… what's wrong?"

"She started in about last night and I refuse to hear it. You may have to put up with her bitchy, bossy ways, but I do not." I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Vika—"

"No—I am not asking you to take sides or chose between us, but as my brother I expect you to tell her to _leave me alone._"

"Roza—please… for me. Leave it alone for now. Later we will all sit down and discuss it." He rested his forehead against hers—something I normally would have found adorably cute, but I was so angry it just served to further my irritation.

"Fine. For now. But she smells like—"

"No buts! Keep your big nose out of _my_ life. I can guarantee you if you don't—you will regret it."

"Are you… threatening me?" She gave me a patronizing smile, like I was the foolish one.

"No—I am warning you. I don't want to involve my mother in the problem between you and I Roza because she loves you like a daughter. Yeva on the other hand, will side with _me._"

Dimitri frowned at the thought. "I think it best if we do not get her mixed up in these squabbles. We will work it out on our own. And as much as I am terrified at the thought of leaving you two alone… Christian called and needs me to take him into town. Will you be alright? If you need me to stay I will… I told him what happened… he will understand."

"I'm fine. Go." She looked up at him, smiling sadly; there was obvious doubt in his eyes—and his expression was completely torn. Seeing it made me glad I would never be forced to choose between someone I loved and a duty I'd sworn to serve. "They come first… remember? Besides if you don't take him he's stupid enough to go on his own."

"I will leave you to say your goodbyes. Be safe, Mitya." I turned to walk away, ignoring him when he called after me. I didn't want to witness their kisses and cuddles when they were determined to begrudge me from having my own.

I did not mask my mood as well as I thought—not even the smile Adrian gave me as I sat could pull me out of my anger. Mama took one look at my face and asked me what was wrong—but I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. She repeated the question to Roza when she returned a few minutes later; despite the look of warning I shot her, she opened her great big mouth.

"We had a little disagreement in the ladies room—about last night."

Adrian's hand dropped to my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. I glanced over at him, trying to smile, but it was impossible to do when Roza was sitting across from me looking so damned smug. She knew my mother would fret about our fighting and ask questions—ones that would enable her to talk about the incident without breaking her promise to Dimitri.

Yeva looked from me to Roza, then sat up a little straighter, toying with her silverware. "It was most appalling, I think. To behave in such a manner in public."

Roza shot me a triumphant look that made me want to smack her. "That's what I was trying to tell her—that letting someone like Adrian kiss her was bad for her reputation."

Adrian tensed beside me, his hand dropping down to pat at the pockets of his jeans; almost instinctively I knew what he was looking for—so I reached down, stilling his hand with mine. He couldn't smoke—not here, in front of her—it might betray who he was; not many dhampirs smoked, but I was willing to bet that those who did avoided his fancy brand of cigarettes. He glanced over at me and I discreetly shook my head, eyes flicking over to Roza. Sighing he slid his arm back around my chair, nervous fingers playing with a strand of my hair that had escaped my messy bun.

I wasn't talking about Viktoria," Yeva said, narrowing her eyes, "But rather the scene you and Dimitri made by drawing attention to the situation."

"I told her she… wait…_what _? _Us? _ She's the one who was playing tonsil hockey with the court gigolo!"

"That attractive young man accepts money for… favors?" Mama looked scandalized at the very thought.

"What? No… not money—he just sleeps around. A lot. With a bunch of different women."

"I think perhaps you should refrain from using words you don't understand, Roza. English is not even my mother tongue, but even I know what that word means." I scowled at her, trying to ignore Adrian's soft chuckle—elbowing him in the ribs to silence him.

"Fine. He's a male slut—or whatever you want to call it. One who is always drunk and chain smokes and has a victim complex!" She glared at me, then turned to my mother, trying to win her to her side. "We were trying to help her avoid getting hurt—Adrian doesn't like Dimitri… or me… and the truth is he probably only kissed her to piss Dimitri off in hopes of starting a fight. Or in some pathetic attempt to make me—"

"Assumption. My granddaughter is a very beautiful girl—even if she can't see it herself. Is it so hard to believe that a handsome young man might want to kiss her simply for that reason alone?" Yeva cut her off, turning to Adrian, smiling. " Guardian Johnson… you are a man. Is my theory so far-fetched?"

He'd grown even more tense beside me, even his restless fingers stilling their movement. "Not at all. I would kiss her myself if I wasn't afraid her giant brother might punch me."

Roza frowned. "That's beside the point—you don't know the whole story! Adrian used to be my—"

"Friend. And yet you sit here spewing trash about him—even after he gave you the money to hunt down my brother!" I slammed my fist on the table—on the verge of slapping her. Only Adrian's arm tightening around my shoulder stopped me from jumping to my feet.

"I'm just trying to protect you for God's sakes! And you're acting like… wait a minute… how do you know about that?" Roza narrowed her eyes, leaning across the table. "Nobody knows that except a few people."

"Your father knows everything, or do you forget that he has spies everywhere?" I covered as best I could, realizing my mistake too late. "I asked him about Adrian but all that he would say was that you used to be close friends and he loaned you the money to come to Russia."

"Enough! Both of you be quiet! You are giving me a headache with your bickering!" Yeva glared at both of us, reaching for her cane. "You will both sit there and be _quiet_ and _listen _to _me. _ I have heard enough slander for one day—is that not what it is called here, when you make negative comments against someone behind their back?"

Roza slouched down in her chair, frowning. "I just—"

"I said to be _quiet_ Roza! It was a _hypothetical_ question! So this young man has made a few mistakes—who at this table hasn't? Vika was foolish and naive with that boy back home…Olena stayed with a man that abused her and harmed her children. And you and I? We have killed in cold blood. Which sin is greater—the one you and I committed or this young man's?"

Mama's eyes dropped to the table; from where I was I could see a single tear sliding down her cheek. It made my heart hurt but I dared not go to her; if I did I would be close enough to strangle Roza—which I desperately wanted to do. Even so, when my brother's girlfriend flicked her eyes over at me, and I saw the question in them, I shook my head so that she would know I hadn't betrayed the secret she had shared.

"If we judge people by their past actions alone then why would they bother to change them? If the past haunts every moment of a life there is no room to learn or grow. You… you of all people should know that. Do you judge my grandson for the things he did—or realize there was a reason for them?"

"That's completely different! Dimitri had no choice—he was changed against his will! He never would have done those things if he'd been himself and damn you for mentioning it old woman!" Roza sat up, her eyes full of fury; as much as I disliked her for the things she had said, I was glad that my brother had someone like her—someone who was willing to face anything or anyone on his behalf.

"When I saw that young man kiss my kotyonok last night, I took the time to learn about him. My wise friends Rhonda and Ambrose and I spoke in great detail about these things." Grandmother's eyes were locked with Roza's, so intense that it seemed as though she did not even blink. "Lord Ivashkov has his reasons too—in a way he has no more choice than my Dimka did. He is sick in his heart and in his head."

"Oh that's a load of shit! He's had plenty of opportunities to—"

"Interrupting one my age is beyond rude, Roza—and if it happens again I will use my cane on your knuckles to remind you." A snort of amusement escaped Adrian at her threat, drawing her eyes his way. "That goes for you too, young man."

"Sorry… something in my throat." His hand was trembling as he reached for his water glass; the sight made my anger at Roza flare up even more. I shifted so my leg pressed against his, trying to comfort him in any way I could.

"This young man—he is like Vasilisa, is he not? Touched by Spirit? It strongly affects him—correct?"

Roza rolled her eyes. "Yeah but Lissa manages to refrain from drinking and smoking and screwing half the population—so he could too, if he tried."

Adrian's hand dropped down to his lap; a moment later he reached over, lacing his fingers through mine; I squeezed it gently, hoping he knew that I didn't care what was said.

"People have different ways of coping, do they not? Olena cooks. Dimka reads. You… hit things. Outlets to relieve the stress that builds up in us all. Ambrose told me of a time when it affected the young queen much as it does Lord Ivashkov—she did things that were contrary to the person she was inside. He mentioned a party with drunken cavorting—kissing a young man that was not the one she'd committed to. But you do not judge her for that… why?"

"Because that was my fault! I wasn't there to take the darkness from her—I tried to take as much as I could through the bond while I was in Russia… but it wasn't enough!"

"Does he have someone to share his burden? To take the darkness he builds up? Think about that, Roza. And think about this… some of that darkness is your fault too."

Silence fell around the table; Roza's dark, angry eyes fell to her plate—but there was a hint of wetness in them.

"If what he does hurts no one—then how dare you speak against him. How dare anyone who does not know the full weight that he carries even open their mouths and whisper."

"He's hurting himself," Roza muttered, swiping at her eyes. "Even though he hates me… I don't want him to hurt."

"And yet… when he did something that might have ended up giving him a bit of happiness and making things better for himself… you stopped it from happening. You did not pull Dimitri away and use your kisses to calm him down. You stood back and watched this person you claim you don't want hurting get stepped on once again. You pulled Viktoria away, not thinking that she is a good, sweet girl who might help him."

"Yeah—I'm the bad guy here. Let me tell you something Yeva Belikova—as much as I care about Adrian I hate what he's done to himself! He's so eat up with bitterness that I was _afraid_ for Viktoria. So excuse the hell out of me for trying to protect her from ending up a—" She caught herself, but her unspoken word hovered in the air; we all knew what she'd been about to say—and it made my grandmother furious.

"A what? Blood whore? I despise that term—do not use it in my presence!" Yeva's temper snapped. Her small fist banged down on the table, making the water in her glass slosh over onto the table. "Sometimes I think that the Academies teach our young people all the wrong things—they instill prejudices and about things they do not understand. They teach our people to hate their own kind for things that do not matter one bit!"

"Yeva I—"

Yeva's hand darted to her cane as she glared at Roza across the table. "I am not finished yet! Ambrose told me the way the dhampirs treat him—they look down upon him for the things he does without taking the time to get to know him. They do not know that he has been trying to learn all he can—or that all his money is being saved so one day he can open up a spa for _dhampirs_ alone. A place where Guardians can go to have their stress relieved—where the treatments offered are ones that will help them in the ways they need it the most. Where they can have a few hours of peace and time just for _themselves._"

"I didn't know that—but… there's a difference between that and the types of places where women… you know."

"Spit it out girl—where the women do what? Give blood to Moroi men? Does it hurt anyone—what they do? You sit and glare at me with those flashing, angry eyes, but your expression when you think the words gives your thoughts away. I tell you that what two people do behind closed doors is no one's business but their own! I gave blood to Olena's father—and Olena gave blood to the one she loved too. Does that make us blood whores? And if so… what does that make _you? _ Mark and Oksa told me how you looked when your father brought you to their house," her eyes dropped down to Roza's throat—just like the day we'd been in the dressing room, my eyes were drawn to the scars there; they were hard to see to the naked eye unless you knew what you were looking for—but once you noticed them, they stood out… tiny raised marks where the scar tissue had built up underneath her tanned skin. "I ask you this—how would you feel if people judged you for what you did? If they spread slander about you because of things they _assumed_ without considering all the facts… without taking time to know or understand why you did those things. What happened between you and Dimka is no one's business but your own. You had your reasons just as I had mine and my Olena had hers."

She sat back, rubbing her hands across her face, looking drawn and tired, as if the burst of anger had drained away her energy—but I wasn't fooled. Her eyes still held a fiery zeal that would not go out until the final sleep took her. "I have seen what Spirit can drive a man to do firsthand, Roza. I have seen someone as kind and good as Vasilisa brought so low that they attacked those around them without reason. I have heard them beg for death to ease the suffering of their mind. I have found a man so consumed by the darkness that he'd torn open his own flesh with his fangs in hopes that it would relieve the pressures building inside him before they drove him mad.—and I say that if the things young Ivashkov does prevents that from happening to him, then all the better. Never again do I want someone to find the Spirit user they love trapped within their own mind and unable to escape its demons. To witness something like that… to be unable to help someone you love… it scars the soul in ways that do not heal."

"Who was it… the Spirit user?" Adrian's voice was almost a whisper. "Is it someone the queen and Lord Ivashkov could talk to? They're trying to learn all they can about how to deal with their element."

"It was Olena's father… he is dead. It was not his element that took him—once we learned how to master it… he was never bothered by the darkness again."

Roza stared at her, processing what she had said. "Mastered it… you were shadow kissed?"

"No." My grandmother chuckled softly, shaking her head. "There was no bond of shadows between us—but another kind entirely."

"Impossible. The only way to ease the darkness is—"

"You young people—you think you know so much. Let me guess, you read a book or two so now you are an expert? I read a library of books, child—and I lived the very things they referenced in their pages. I do not lie—and I am not mistaken."

"I read everything I could find," Roza responded, hotly. "And I talked to people too. There was only one Spirit user mentioned and—"

"Saint Vladimir… and his Anna. Incomplete tales that only graze the surface of the truth—probably that is why the books were not destroyed when they burned Ekaterina's great library. Mind you…they had no way of knowing that most of her collection had already been moved to safety—or that she had entrusted a select few to memorize what they could."

"Wait—hold up. Ekaterina Zeklos? She had books on Spirit?" Adrian set his chair down with a thump, staring at my grandmother with wide eyes.

"She did. Hundreds of them. Ancient, handwritten tomes and scroll upon scroll of parchment. She collected the history of the Moroi and dhampir, preserving the past to protect the future."

"Who would dare burn her library? And… why on earth would they do such a thing?" Mama reached over to take my grandmother's hand, as entranced by what she was saying as the rest of us.

"Why does anyone burn or ban books, daughter? They hide away or destroy what they do not understand out of fear. It is the nature of people, be they human or Moroi or dhampir. As for who… it was the members of her Royal council—of course. Who else? Oh they covered their tracks, saying that when she abandoned her palace she left the fireplace burning—but it was a lie. The destruction of that beautiful historic building was a part of the reason the next queen decided to start over, moving her Court here."

I glanced over at Adrian, wondering if his Aunt had ever mentioned such a thing to him. It was clear by the look on his face that it was a surprise. "But her books… the ones that weren't destroyed… where are they?"

Yeva shrugged. "Who knows—she hid them away somewhere where they will never be found unless she chooses to show them."

"I still don't see how Vladimir and Anna's story isn't complete—he had spirit, she took his darkness through the bond. He died, she went crazy . End of story." Roza gave my grandmother a skeptical look.

"I have already answered your question—there are more bonds than just the one made up of shadows." Yeva stared her down. "And there was more to Anna than just being shadow kissed."

"So you're saying there's a way we can save Lis—uh… the Queen—and other Spirit users?" Adrian caught himself before using her nickname—it was a good thing Roza was so intent on my grandmother or she might have caught the slip.

"Other Spirit users? Yes. The Queen—no."

"Why the fuck not?" Roza's temper snapped. "If you know—"

"I repeat. I have already answered your question. If you didn't listen it is no one's fault but your own. I am done talking for the day, I am tired and I am old. I will say one last thing—to heal a Spirit user without dying or losing one's mind, the answer is simple. Nature abhors a vacuum and what is used must be replaced."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"If there is a hole in the middle of the road, Roza, what must one do to fix it?"

Roza stared at her, not even blinking. "I don't want riddles… I want answers."

"Fill it." Adrian said, softly.

"Exactly. You are a wise man, Guardian Johnson."

"But how? How can you replenish something that is a part of you that's been used up?"

"If you have a glass of water that is empty and you thirst what do you do, kotik?" She reached over, laying her hand on his arm.

He frowned, his brow wrinkling. "Refill it with water."

"Exactly. You see? Half of my riddle is already solved Roza—It just takes using your head. When you figure out the other half you will have the answers you seek."

"Great. So we're supposed to sit around playing mind games while Lissa and Adrian go insane—or I should say… _more_ insane, in Adrian's case." Roza shot my grandmother a dark look—one that did not affected her in the slightest.

"You do not listen. There is no help for your friend… not until she has lived her nightmares. Even then… she may be forever lost if the old ways do not come back." My grandmother stood, reaching for her cane. "I am exhausted and must rest—no Olena, you stay and visit with Roza." She frowned at my mother—who had automatically risen to her feet. "I am old, I need the young about me." Her eyes shifted to Adrian and she nodded. "Come children—you are young and strong and full of energy. You may escort me to my suite."

Adrian stood, reaching for his wallet, but Mama waved him off. "Lunch was already paid for—by the queen. Keep your money, Guardian Johnson, it is not needed."

"Well then… please give the queen my thanks. It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Belikova—" He paused, his jaw momentarily tensing—so fast and fleeting that I almost didn't see it. "and… Guardian Hathaway."

He held out his arm and Yeva took it, smiling wryly as she did; before I'd even gotten to my feet she was dragging him off in the direction of our building. I paused to kiss Mama's cheek and mumble a hurried goodbye to Roza—and already they were turning the corner, making me rush to catch up with them. The sound of Yeva's voice questioning him made me speed my steps even more.

"So… Guardian Johnson. What Academy did you attend?" There was a hint of mischief in her voice—but he did not catch it.

"Uh… I was trained at home. By my father."

"Ah well that explains it. I heard Roza mumbling under her breath to my grandson that you have no marks when you turned to grab your chair—but if you were not enrolled, that explains it."

He winced, obviously realizing he'd forgotten to weave them into his illusion. "Yeah—can't get a promise mark without being at an Academy."

"Oh even then I do not imagine _you_ would receive one, child."

He frowned, probably wondering if she was being snide, not seeing the way the corners of her mouth twitched up with amusement.

"Do you not remember what I said about my grandmother? You are wasting your time trying to convince her."

He looked over at me, his forehead wrinkling. "What does that mean?"

"It means you best work on your story, kotik—otherwise you will never fool my grandson." Her hand slid down his arm, fingers brushing along the silver band on his hand. "And it means I am impressed with you for trying…. Lord Ivashkov."

I laughed at the look of shock on his face. "She is like me—she sees the truth. And for her to admit you impress her…" I leaned over and kissed my grandmother's cheek, smiling down at her. "is a very important thing. It means that she likes you, moy Dusha."

My grandmother's eyes met with mine—and I knew she understood the real meaning of what I'd said. "You have seen the same things I have. The name you call him fits." She tightened her hand on his arm, murmuring softly. "There is only one way to escape the past and fully embrace the future—the road must be paved with many things… the most important of them being the truth."

I puzzled over what she had said, trying to untwist the words into something I could understand. It took me a minute to realize that my grandmother had locked eyes with Adrian; after a moment, he nodded slowly, then he looked up at me. "Your grandmother… is an amazing woman."

"Yes, she is."

Yeva snorted. "I think amazing is far too mild a description—but thank you just the same. You should work on your vocabulary a bit and try to find one that suits me better. Perhaps…"

She froze, her voice trailing off in mid-sentence, her eyes glazing over as she stared ahead, a faint tremor shaking her small form.

"Ms. Belikova? Are you alright?" Adrian's eyes flicked from her to me, full of concern. "Should I—"

"No… it is vision. Just wait." I rubbed my hand along her arm, eyes darting around the street, making sure no one was close enough to hear whatever she might say.

"So much loneliness. I feel it like an ache in my bones." Her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. "She cannot rest… but doesn't want to."

"Who—"

I silenced him with a look. "Let it play out."

I tried to mask the worry I felt, but it was very hard to do. Back home her visions had never come so frequently—and neither had mine. One a week was usual, but never more than that. It was almost as if something about being at Court was giving our shared gift added strength—a thought I couldn't bear since I didn't want it in the first place.

Yeva went limp; Adrian caught her, scooping her up in his arms far more easily that I could have—which was impressive considering I have dhampir strength. "Don't worry… I've got you. We'll get you home and—"

"No—you must take me there. I must see it."

"You need to rest, Ms. Belikova. After that I promise we'll take you wherever you want to go." Adrian looked at me, and I shook my head, knowing it was a battle he was going to lose.

"Grandmother—"

"It must be now Vika—I have to find the answer. It is in my head but I cannot find it… but if I am there… it will come to me." Her hand reached for mine, squeezing it tightly. "She said you were very impudent before and requests that this time your shoes stay on in her presence."

I froze, staring at her, completely shaken by her words. It was impossible…seeing the dead was not one of her gifts.

Adrian shifted her weight in his arms, the concern in his eyes growing at whatever was showing on my face. "Angel…what—"

"I know where she wants to go. The garden." I tore my eyes away from his so he couldn't see my fear. "She saw the Queen. Your Aunt Tatiana spoke to her."

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry this is a long one, but I like to be thorough when answering the questions you guys leave._**

**Guest (sorry you didn't leave your name so I don't know what to call you o.o) asked: Are you going to do different stories about this pairing or is this the only one? I'm shipping them like fedex. C:**

_Vidrian (Vika and Adrian)will be featured in three of my ongoing stories: This one, 'Letting Go' and 'In the Shadows of the Moroi Court', as well as appearing in the drabble collection and the one shot collection. Probably a few head canons and diary entries for Vika as well, I just have to figure out where I'm going to post them._

_I know the chapters are kinda long—an average book chapter is usually somewhere between 4,000 to 5,000 pages—but I hate short chapters that only cover one scene. I personally prefer longer, more detailed chapters that cover more—to me it's like the difference in a snack and a meal, if that makes sense, though sometimes I force myself to write short ones due to time constraints. Vika makes me write long ones for her—or maybe it's just that I love this ship so much and since they will never be canon I want to give their story as much as I can._

_I was originally going to do three separate 'books' covering Vika's journey, covering the time frame from Homecomings to post The Golden Lily—and beyond into the next generation. They were going to be called 'The Mask I Wear: Beginnings', 'The Mask I Wear: Lost Hope', and 'The Mask I Wear: Resurrection—but I think it will simplify things If I keep posting all three in this one fic. I might do a blank chapter with an A/N indicating the 'book' title between them, but I'm not sure yet._

_Vika and Adrian's story is a very, very long one. I have several 200 page spirals filled (front and back of each page) written out long hand, and I'm about halfway through a new one. When I type up each chapter, it grows and expand as I transfer it, sometimes branching off into completely different stories like Tatiana, Abe and Yeva's—which will be expounded on in "The Shadows of the Moroi Court'. Basically… if you stick with the story to the end, you'll be in for a long, bumpy ride, lol._

_I cannot tell you how happy it makes me for you to say you ship them; I love Vika and Adrian together so much—and that love just grows more and more as their story unfolds. *giant hugs*_

_P.S.—A little teaser for those of you that have said you want to see Romitri babies… they'll be in here and in 'Letting Go'. I promise! :o)_

**_P.S.S. Just as I was about to post this another review hit my mail box, so adding to it now instead of waiting for this weekend when I post the next chapter._**

**Maria asked: Can we get a sneak peek of some of the future stuff? Please? It's driving me crasy knowing you've already written it. :)**

_Here you go doll—sneak peek below, so anyone who doesn't want to see a snippet from the second 'book' **stop reading here!**_

At that moment, something moved in my peripheral vision; it was the faintest flicker of paleness, seen from the corner of my eye. I slowly turned my head—just the slightest hint of a moment, not wanting to give the voyeur any sign that might indicate I had spotted it. Reaching between the seats I laid my hand on Mark's arm, then pointed to Oksana's side of the vehicle. My voice was barely a whisper when he finally got the message. "We have company."

He tensed, fighting the initial, overpowering impulse to turn his head and peer out the window into the dark night beyond—I knew because I was fighting off that exact same impulse too. "How many?"

"I can't tell… at least two—they are hiding in the tree line." Even as I spoke, another subtle movement made me mentally add another to what I'd said.

"Shouldn't you be able to sense them?" Oksana started to turn her head, but Mark grabbed her hand, stilling her.

"I can't sense anything other than your reaction to the wards—it has me so head blind I can't even shut off the bond."

I inched closer to Marks side of the car, not wanting to open the door so close to Oksana. She had to be protected—that was the important thing. The fact that she was a Moroi did not cross my mind—my instinct to protect her was driven by one solitary thing. She might be able to use her element to restore the Queen's mind—and in doing so insure that Dusha would be safe from the persecution Spirit users might soon face. "Get her inside the wards and send help—I will distract them."

"No! We will all ride in together and—"

"Risk them breeching the wards the same way they did at my brother's Academy? I think not—Now GO!" I was out the door before he could argue. My eyes scanned the darkness as he put the car in gear and slammed on the gas, heading for the gates. I heard Oksana cry out, screaming at him to stop—telling him I didn't have a stake—but thank God above he did not listen to her pleas. My fingers touched the pendant at my neck; I raised it to my lips, watching as the Strigoi peeled away from the trees, five of them heading my way. "For moy Dusha," I whispered softly—and then I turned to face them with the only weapon I had—my determination to survive so I could keep the man I loved safe.


	10. Chapter 10: Candid Confessions

_Dear Diary,_

_Adrian's reaction to my announcement only made me admire him more; I think most men would have instantly balked at the balked at the idea or insisted that seeing ghosts was impossible, but he didn't hesitate to believe me. He accepted it completely, without question—heading for the garden as soon as the words left my lips. Together we sat side by side on the small stone bench, watching my grandmother pace around the garden, mumbling things under her breath that neither of us understood. He smoked quite a bit, lighting another cigarette as soon as the one he was puffing on burned down—but I could not blame him. After the horrendous scene with Roza, even I needed something to calm my nerves, so I did not begrudge him his vice._

I shifted on the hard, stone bench, in an attempt to return the feeling to my rear; It had been almost two hours and Yeva showed no sign of finding whatever it was she sought. I was beginning to wonder if I should suggest we leave and try another day, because despite her repeatedly insisting she was fine, I could tell she was tiring.

"If it's bothering you I can put it out." At my questioning look, Adrian held up the cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke that he tried to blow away from me.

"It's fine."

"You moved away from me… I thought maybe it bugged you. Rose and Lissa always gave me a hard time about smoking... back when we were all friends."

I smiled at him, reaching over and taking his cigarette; his eyes widened as I inhaled deeply, blowing a perfect ring of smoke as I returned it to his hand. "It doesn't bother me, Dusha."

"You smoke?"

"No… but I used to. A couple of years ago I got hooked, trying to fit in some Moroi at school. My mama caught me hanging out my bedroom window sneaking a cigarette when I was home on break and she didn't order me to quit, but she hounded me about the habit." I shrugged, swiping my tongue across my lips; they tasted faintly of the spicy cloves used in his cigarettes. "Her harping just stressed me out, which made me smoke even more. So while I may be concerned about you doing it… I promise I will never gripe at you about it. I know from experience that doesn't work—and after hearing what Yeva said… I think quitting might do you more harm than good."

He tilted his head, studying me for so long that I felt myself flush. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you're real… or if this is all a dream," he said, voice soft.

"If I was a dream I don't think my ass would be numb from sitting on this stupid bench," I muttered, glancing over at him from the corner of my eye, "and I assure you it is almost completely numb."

"There's no way you're this perfect. There's got to be some hidden flaw I'm not seeing." He bent over and ground out his cigarette on the base of the bench, setting the butt with the others that were in a tidy pile beside him; I was planning on scooping them up when we left, not wanting to leave a mess.

"I have a lot of flaws. I have a temper… I often jump to conclusions without thinking things through… I can be lazy… I'm messy." I counted the things off on my fingers, smiling all the while. "I hold grudges and have a hard time letting go of resentment. Of course if you meant physical flaws… I've got a lot of those too. My hair… my nose… my gigantic feet…"

"There's nothing wrong with your hair or your nose… and your feet aren't big."

I rolled my eyes, waving off what he'd said. "You don't have to live with them… I do." I scooted closer to him; automatically his arm slid around me and my head dropped to his shoulder. "I moved away because my rear end really is sore… not because of the smoke. I was trying to get more comfortable."

"We could try sitting on the grass again."

"And risk another lecture about being in the way? I think I prefer an aching ass to that, thanks just the same."

When we'd arrived we had automatically settled ourselves on the grass, courteously leaving the bench for Yeva to claim—but instead of thanking us, she'd thrown a hissy fit, insisting we were 'blocking her way'.

"I wonder what the problem is," he said softly, his eyes following my grandmother as she paced. "You'd think if she got some sign to come here… something would happen."

"I don't know. To the best of my knowledge, she's never communicated with a ghost before." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to shiver. I wasn't cold, just frightened by the thought of talking to the dead.

"What did she mean when she said that stuff about leaving your shoes on?" His eyes fell to my sneakered feet, his lips twitching up in a smile when I tucked them beneath the bench in an attempt to hide them from his view.

"When I was here the other day I was wearing a pair of Roza's boots—they were too small… and my feet were hurting… so I took them off. Apparently… it offended her."

He tightened his arm around me, laughing—but it sounded almost hollow. Tilting my head, I looked up at him, not surprised to see a hint of sadness on his face. "That sounds like her—she was a stickler for manners and propriety. Except where I was concerned. She let me get away with things other people couldn't"

"You miss her a lot, don't you?"

"Every single day. She's the only member of my family that ever showed me any real affection. My mother tried… but she's not really the maternal type. Aunt Tatiana may have been a hard ass with everyone else… but when it was just the two of us… she was a completely different person."

"I'm sorry that you lost her. I know how it feels to lose someone you love." I closed my eyes, remembering the sharp pain that had pierced my chest when Roza had told us my brother had been turned. But I got him back—that wouldn't happen for Adrian.

"Thanks. I think people forget that she wasn't just a queen… you know? That she had a family that loved her and mourn her. Or should, at least—it pisses me off that I'm the only one that seems care she's gone. None of them ever come here—it's not public enough. Sure they go to her grave and make a big production out of it—but it's all fake… just for appearance sake."

"That's not right." I frowned, unable to imagine using the death of one of my family in such a manner. "But Dusha… think of it this way—at least she has you… someone that genuinely loves her for the woman she was and not as just the queen. You made this beautiful place to honor her memory… and though I didn't know her… I bet she appreciates it."

His fingers traced along the skin of my arm, a soothing gesture—for both of us, I think. "Why did you put flowers in her vase?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do. The others were all dried up… I don't know… it just didn't seem right to leave them there… and I didn't want to leave it empty either." I glanced up at the statue, thinking about what had happened. "Plus… as stupid as it sounds… when I took my shoes off… I felt like she was glaring at me. I think maybe subconsciously I was trying to appease her."

"It's not stupid… if her ghost is hanging around, she was probably right there, having a fit. Maybe you got… I don't know what to call it… like a sense of her, even though you didn't see her."

"Mhmmm. Could be." I glanced down at my palm, rubbing my finger against the tender flesh around the gash the thorn had made. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?" He prodded when my voice trailed off. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing… it's not important."

"Lie. You're aura just shifted… there's a sort of light greyish green in it that wasn't there before. You're freaking out about something… the way you did when your grandmother mentioned your bare feet earlier."

I huffed, irritated that I couldn't hide my growing anxiety from him. "That's not fair—it's like you're peeking into my head or something."

"Trust me… if I could turn it off, I would. Whiskey helps, but lately I've been having to drink more and more before the colors even dim, much less completely disappear." His eyes dropped down my hand; he frowned, his arm sliding away as his hand stilled the nervous movement of my finger, replacing it with his own. "What happened?"

It's what I was wondering about… when I decided to pick some flowers for her… I didn't want to pick the lilies—partly because I'm religious… and because I didn't want to touch them bare handed. But I'm wondering if maybe it wasn't her… influencing me—because when I went to pick the roses… I just got a weird feeling. Like something was warning me off… you know? I thought it was my sight… but maybe… it was her. I ignored it and a thorn cut me… it went in pretty deep."

His brow wrinkled, his other hand sliding over my injured one, so it was held between his palms like a bookmark between two pages. The rush of electric warmth surged through me as he pulled on Spirit. "I'm sorry… that's my fault. I shouldn't have—"

My grandmother made a loud exclamation; we both jerked, surprised, turning to look at her. She was staring into the corner waving her hands in irritation. As we watched, she moved closer to the hedge, whispering so low that we couldn't hear what she said.

"Do you think… she's here?" There was so much hope in his voice that it made me want to cry for him—and it made me feel guilty too; from the moment I'd realized Yeva had seen the ghost, I'd been worried about myself—fretting that I might eventually see them—when I should have thought about what it might mean for _him. _ If Yeva could talk to the Queen, he'd get a chance to say goodbye—even if it was by proxy; he would be able to have some closure, and maybe the scars her murder had left inside him would finally be able to heal. I was a little startled to realize something else as well—as terrified as I still was at the thought of seeing the dead… if it could give him a modicum of peace… I would gladly bear the burden.

"I hope so… for your sake." It came out a whisper—but he didn't seem to hear; he was staring at my grandmother—or rather, the air around her—with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Her aura… Jesus. I didn't think to look at it before. It's… amazing." He dropped my hand, slowly rising from the bench, moving closer to where Yeva stood. She glanced back over her shoulder as he neared, chuckling softly before turning back to the hedge—and then, without the slightest hint or warning, a vision slammed into my head.

Or rather… a memory—that wasn't mine.

I was struggling with a someone… a woman… trying to fight her off—but she was younger and stronger. I was determined—but so was she—and slowly, my strength began to fail. The grip of my hands slipped on her arms—only an inch or two, no more—but it was enough to give her the advantage she needed. Pain like I've never felt before exploded from the middle of my chest—an agony that didn't fade, even as death slowly pulled me into its dark embrace. There was nothing but blackness and overpowering sense of loneliness, accompanied by a piercing, anguished sound that was as unceasing as the pain.

The sharp crack of Yeva's palm against my cheek pulled me out of my stupor; the sound I'd been hearing had been my own screams—so loud and long they'd left my throat aching. I stared up at them from the ground, dazed and confused, trying to regain myself and shove aside the horrific images that echoed in my head; Yeva stared back at me, her face void of expression—and Adrian… Adrian looked completely terrified. His pupils were so large that I could barely see the brilliant green of his eyes.

A trail of warm wetness slid down my face, temporarily blinding me, but I was still too shaken to lift my hand and wipe it away. Then the pain hit, exploding through my skull, so strong it stole my breath from my lungs. I moaned, rolling over onto my side as a wave of intense nausea hit me, making me feel weak and sick as I fought against the urge to throw up. One of them pressed something against my forehead, and though I wanted to tell them not to touch me, I couldn't; the pain made speech impossible. Then suddenly, like magic… it was gone.

I laid there for a minute, not moving—waiting for the pain to rebound back on me, but it didn't. It was gone—and he nausea had vanished too, along with the weakness. Shifting, I swiped at my eyes, trying to clear my vision; When I could see again, my hand was covered in a smear of red…I was bleeding. Ignoring Adrian's murmur of protest, I sat up, my eyes darting between them before returning to my hand.

"What… happened?"

"You hit your head when you collapsed. Hard. On the base of the statue." His voice was distant and hollow sounding; he wouldn't meet my eyes.

Glancing over at the statue, I winced—the corner of the marble pedestal had a splash of blood coating it; my little accident would have left me with an ugly scar—or worse— if he hadn't been there to heal me. "Thank you… for healing—"

"This will never do—you cannot wander around Court with all that blood on your face. They will think we are under attack." Yeva cut in, swiping at my face with her shawl.

"Give me your necklace… I'll… help." Adrian held out his hand, but I hesitated when I saw how he was trembling. "All she's doing is smearing it around. Hopefully your… whatever it is you have… won't cancel out a charm."

I slid it off, dropping it in his palm. My hands were shaking almost as much as his were, but he didn't notice. Unfortunately… Yeva did.

"Tell me what you saw."

"No—I can't." My eyes darted over to Adrian then back to her, telegraphing a warning; I would not describe his Aunt's final moments in front of him—he didn't need those images tormenting him the same way they would haunt me. Sensing she was about to argue, I amended my statement in Russian. "Later. I will tell you later, Grandmother."

"Fine… later. If it doesn't fade first." She frowned, glancing around the garden. "The Queen has gone… she is done with me for the day. We should go too—before we are missed and someone comes looking for us."

Adrian slid the necklace around my neck, brushing my hair to the side so he could fasten it. "What did she say? I wanted to talk to her but—"

"Many things—but now is not the time to discuss them." Yeva gave him a look that clearly broadcast that the subject was closed, however, when his face fell, her own stoic expression softened—just a bit. "She did say she loves you very, very much… and she loves this place you created for her."

"I wanted to do more…" he mumbled, standing up and looking around. "I wanted her to know that she was loved."

"She knows child. Now—be a gentleman and help an old woman to her feet. Age is not a friend, it brings aching joints and creaking bones."

He bent, helping her to her feet; I could tell by his movements that he handled her gently, as if she were some priceless treasure that might shatter if handled roughly. He did the same with me, but when we began walking and I reached down to take his hand, he moved away, standing on Yeva's other side. My eyes dropped to the ground as I tried to hide my surprise; I tried to tell myself that he had not seen my outstretched hand… but deep down…I knew that he did.

We were silent as we crossed court, not a one of us speaking. Each of us were lost in our own thoughts, and for a moment I was glad that the horrible scene with the queen still lingered in my mind; it was so vivid and potent that it dominated my thoughts, preventing me from speculating on why Adrian had pulled away. I wanted to drown out the dark seed of doubt that had sprouted deep inside me—trying to ignore the echoing sound of my brothers warning that kept circling through my mind. After dropping Yeva at her room, I automatically headed to mine, assuming he would follow; he did, but he stopped and lingered in the doorway when I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Are you going to be okay alone? Are you sure you don't want to stay with your grandmother?"

I turned, letting my confusion show. "You… don't want to come in?"

"I have some stuff I need to take care of before it gets too late." He smiled, but it seemed… almost forced.

I didn't question him or try to convince him to stay, though I desperately wanted to. "Oh… okay then." I tried to smile, not wanting him to see how hurt I was feeling inside. "Thank you for coming along with me… I'm sorry about the thing with Yeva. Her being stubborn, I mean."

"No worries—maybe she'll ease up and tell us what was going on in a day or two."

Throughout the day I had been completely comfortable in his presence; it had been natural and easy, like we'd known each other for years—but something had changed, erasing that feeling as if it had never been there at all. As we stood there—me nervously toying with the hem of my shirt while ne shifted from one foot to the other—the companionable sensation vanished completely. We were two complete strangers, uneasy around each other and unsure what to do about it.

"Well… I'll talk to you later… or something." He glanced towards the elevator, then looked back at me, his expression completely unreadable.

I nodded my head, trying to fight back the massive rush of emotions that were swamping me—primarily dejection and sadness—my heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. "Okay. Um… bye."

He stood there for a few heartbeats more, then turned and walked away; I hurried inside, quietly shutting the door behind me—though the urge to slam it was great. As soon as it shut, I collapsed back against it, completely shattered—watching him walk away from me had actually _hurt, _as foolish as it sounds. Staring out at my empty suite, I was at a complete loss; it was an unsettling feeling—like I'd left something undone that desperately needed finishing, but I didn't know where to begin.

Don't get me wrong—I was not so naive as to think that just because I'd slept with him we were a couple, or that we should be joined at the hip every minute of the day. I logically knew that the attachment I felt for him had happened unnaturally fast, and that there was no possible way he reciprocated those feelings—after all, I might have been dreaming about _him _for years, but he had only known of my existence for a single night. What confused me was how all at once he'd shut down, completely pulling away after being so open to me all day. It was like some switch had been flipped and he'd retreated into himself—and I couldn't figure out _why._

And then… it hit me. He'd seen me have a vision—and started pulling away.

Sighing, I dropped my keys on the table and wandered over to the fridge; the last thing I wanted to do was eat—in fact, the thought turned my stomach. I wasn't hungry but I knew I needed food or else the headache might return. With all the turmoil that we'd had at the café… I'd never even got a chance to order, much less eat—though that was probably a very good thing. If I'd had a plate of food in front of me during Roza's bitchy display, she would have ended up wearing it.

After a I forced down a sandwich that tasted like cardboard and made my stomach knot up, I showered. As I lathered up and rinsed off, and the perfumed fragrance of the soap replaced Adrian's musky scent on my skin, it made me wish I had waited a little longer to get clean. I honestly didn't know when or if I'd see him again, and watching the foam circling the drain, I realized that all I had left of the night we'd shared were the memories inside my head—and in time, even those would fade away like the bubbles. I wrapped myself in one of the thick, terry cloth robes that had come with the suite, and I stretched out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling—desperately trying to reason out the odd thoughts echoing in my head. The problem was… logic and reason are no match for emotions, and mine were churning, getting stronger and stronger with every minute that passed—and though I tried to squash the dark thoughts that kept heaving to the surface… they refused to go away. Instead, they kept tolling over and over again, like the peal of an ancient church bell that refused to be silenced—giving strength to those tiny seeds of doubt I'd tried to shove away.

Had Dimitri and Roza been right about everything? Had I just been pawn in some twisted game—like the one Rolan had tried to play?

My head was saying one thing, but my heart refused to agree; it was determined to believe the best, trying to drown out logic with hope; back and forth again and again, I surged from one emotion to the next, finally pulling my pillow over my face and groaning at my stupidity. I'd actually been foolish enough to believe I could have a normal life—but deep down I had always known that eventually he'd realize what a freak I was; it had been stupid for me to hope that he'd be able to overlook the vision thing.

I laid there for hours, alternating between cursing God for giving me the sight and begging him to take it away—pleading with him to let me live a normal life, one unhampered by visions… but I knew it was all in vain. For whatever reason, I was cursed—and it wasn't going to go away, no matter how fervently I prayed.

The phone on my nightstand rang while I was berating myself; I reached over and answered it automatically without thinking. "Yes?"

"Viktoria… you need to come up here right now. I want to talk about what happened at lunch." I tried to muffle my groan with the pillow—but failed miserably. "Don't you groan at me Viktoria Aleksandra—I said get up here now!"

"Mama—I am completely exhausted and in bed. I was almost asleep. Can't it wait until tomorrow? Please?"

"No it cannot wait. Get dressed—I expect you here in ten minutes or less young lady." Her firm, no nonsense tone was one I'd rarely heard; my mother was always easy going and slow to anger—in truth, she usually allowed my grandmother to handle our discipline, so her forcefulness left me stunned.

"Yes ma'am. I am getting up now. I will be there as soon as I can." I hung up, glaring at the phone, mentally cursing myself for even answering it; I wasn't in the right frame of mind to be lectured about rude behavior or to debate the things Roza had said. A part of me wished I'd simply stood my ground and refused to go—but I knew that was something I could never, ever do; I'd been raised to honor my mother and my grandmother, and it was something so deeply ingrained in me that it would probably never fade.

I dressed in a rush, throwing on a pair of sweats and flip flops, piling my still damp hair up and securing it with a clip as I jogged up the stairs to her suite. Though when I got there I immediately wished that I had used the ten minutes she had given me to take more care with my appearance—or at least stopped to put on a proper pair of shoes.

Abe Mazur sat on the couch with Adrian at his side. He looked up as I walked in and our gazes immediately locked; for moment, I was so distracted that I completely forgot about everyone else in the room. I got lost in the depths of his beautiful, soulful eyes—remembering the way they'd looked when he'd hovered over me in his bed.

Abe's low chuckle pulled me out of my stupor; my gaze dropped to the floor as heat flamed in my cheeks. 'Do you see what I mean, Olena? Surely you remember what it was like?'

My mother completely ignored him, her eyes fixed on my face. "Greet our guests Viktoria—I raised you to have manners."

"Mr. Mazur… Guardian Johnson… it is a pleasure to see you both again." I nodded my head respectfully, opening my mouth to ask what this was about, but Mama cut me off before I could speak.

"Don't you mean… Lord Ivashkov?"

I froze, my eyes darting to Adrian's hands; they'd been clasped between his knees, hidden from my view—so I'd just assumed he was wearing his ring. "I… uh…" Stuttering, I sank down in a chair, racking my brain for an excuse—but none came. Frustrated, I mumbled in Russian under my breath.. "Dermo."

"Language!" Her voice was stern and full of anger, making me inwardly flinch.

"I told her the truth. I didn't want to lie to her and sneak around behind her back, Vika. I didn't want to be the kind of man Rose described."

I looked over at him, tears prickling my eyes, wondering if this was his way of getting rid of me; my mother would tell my brother and I'd be treated like a prisoner—leaving him free to move on without having to worry about me bothering him again. "You could have just told me—"

"I have heard Lord Ivashkov's reason for the deception today, Viktoria… I am waiting to hear yours."

"I'm sorry Mama… I just wanted to spend some time with him."

"That is no reason to be dishonest with your family! To lie to me and your grandmother—making us into fools!"

"You saw Dimitri last night! What do you think he would have done if I'd—"

"Don't you dare try and put off your lying on your brother! He was out of line—but you should have come to me to discuss this! I am two seconds away from cutting this trip short and sending you back to school! Never in my life did I imagine you would—"

"Daughter!" Yeva used her cane to rock to her feet, waving off Adrian's attempt to help her rise from the couch. "She did not lie to me—I knew what she was doing and supported her actions."

I glanced up in surprise. True, she had seen through the illusion—and I had suspected she would—but she was implying that I had discussed it with her in advance and acted with her blessing. "Grandmother—"

"I gave her the ring he wore on his finger—it is the very same ring that once graced your own father's hand… and before I placed it on his hand, my own grandfather wore it. If that is not proof that I believe this is right then I do not know what is!"

"Mama…" My mother's eyes darted between us, her brow wrinkling, "what are you—"

Yeva switched to Russian, not waiting for her to finish. "I have seen things… things that _must_ come to pass Olena. This is one of them. If you wish to hold Dimitri and Roza's children in your arms… you must not interfere."

Abe's head jerked up, his look of bored indifference fading as his dark eyes fastened on my grandmother. My mother looked over at him, frowning at his sudden interest. "Don't be ridiculous Mama, what does—"

"Twin flames daughter… two brighter than one alone." Yeva's voice sounded far away and vacant—and though I couldn't see her eyes, I knew that the spaced out look she sometimes got was glazing over her eyes. "Flames that are also moths— the light they cast drawing them together." She shook her head, groaning—immediately Adrian stood, moving to help her sit down, as if he could sense she needed the assistance. She patted his hand, her eyes locking with his—even as she continued to speak to my mother in our native tongue.

"There is much you do not know Olena… and I can not tell you. Some of it… it is not my place to discuss. But this I will say—and you would do best to heed it. Viktoria is an adult… and in this she must be treated as such."

"What you have said here is truth—you swear it before Allah?" Abe's Russian was as flawless as mine, as if it were his native tongue—and he was staring at my grandmother as if she were holding the Holy Grail—but she didn't look at him; her eyes were still locked on Adrian.

Yeva nodded slowly, not turning her head. "I will swear it before Allah or Yahweh or whatever name you chose—it is the truth. May I be struck dead and sent straight to hell if I lie."

Adrian shot me a quizzical look, but all I could do was shrug. Just because I understood the language they were speaking didn't mean I could make sense of what they said.

My mother's eyes dropped to the ground as she rubbed her hand across her face; I couldn't remember ever seeing her looking tired and worn—not even on the day we'd found out about Mitya had she seemed so drained. "I do not want to lie to my son… it disgraces everything I stand for, Mama."

"Then leave it to those of us who understand that sometimes a lie is necessary to protect the greater truth, daughter. I tell you this with certainty… if you side with Dimka on this,,, without giving Viktoria a chance to spread her wings and fly… it will make a rift between you that will never heal. That in part is why I held my tongue for so long about the choice _you_ made—you needed to grow and make decisions on your own, be they good or bad. I knew what you were trying to achieve… though it did not work in the end. Trust me… it will work for her, Olena. I promise you."

Mama fell silent, her eyes shifting to mine. She studied me for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. "Your grandmother is right… but it is hard to let go. You are my baby, and always will be. But I see that it is time for me to let you stand on your own. However you must remember this, Vika… with a Moroi… you must be careful… be safe. You cannot let yourself get swept up in the moment the way Sonya did. Be like Karo… make _wise_ decisions."

"Same thing I told her last night—more or less." Abe's soft laughter made my cheeks turn bright red as I thought about the condom he'd given me—still unopened on Adrian's nightstand.

"Not to interrupt… but I'm having a little trouble breeching the language barrier here," Adrian interjected, flashing a smile.

"Which is exactly why I switched to Russian," Yeva shot back, giving him a pointed look.

"You are not taking into consideration one very important thing," I snapped—in Russian—trying to ignore him. "You are both acting as though he _wants_ to be with me. We only just met. This entire discussion is—"

"If he didn't want to be with you… he wouldn't be here Vika," Mama cut in, her voice gentle. "Why would he go to all the trouble of clearing the air between us… why would he care what _ I _thought… if he wasn't thinking further than today?"

I shrugged, dropping my eyes to the carpet; I didn't have an answer to that question—but I knew one thing for certain; his earlier actions had not been those of someone who wanted more than the single night we'd shared. He had seen me at my worst… and practically run in the opposite direction.

"I will call Dimka and—"

"Mitya… He _hates_ the name Dimka," I muttered.

"What?" She looked taken aback, like I had insulted her. "He does not! He—"

"He has told me not to call him that before… but I thought it was because he felt it was a childish name. Last night… he told me he hates it. That it reminds him of… bad things." I did not mention my father—it was something we never talked about—but I didn't need to. She understood by the guarded expression on my face that hearing the name haunted my brother—and why it did. Frowning and closing her eyes. "Oh… I did not know. I will try to remember… but it will be hard to change."

"Dimitri is the least of our worries at this point anyway… Roza is suspicious—she asked me why I smelled like cloves," I said. "I refused to answer her… and things got heated. It almost got into another physical confrontation between us."

"Which is why we need to keep the two of you separated for a few days." Abe smiled shrewdly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt, "And I know just how to do it."

"Why does that not surprise me? Enlighten us all, please."

My eyes shot over to my mother, widening in dismay; she shouldn't be so sarcastic—not when dealing with Zmey. "Mama—"

"It's quite simple, really. The animosity the girls have shown towards each other over the past few days is of great concern to us, Olena. We discussed it and decided that it's in everyone's best interest to be proactive and keep them apart until they've both had a chance to calm down—hopefully then they will be able to control themselves and act like young ladies instead of wild animals." Abe paused, reaching over to clasp Adrian's shoulder and smiling. "I've been planning to send Johnson to Saint Vlad's to do some research for me—and I think Viktoria should go along too. It will be an excellent opportunity for her to see the difference in the way they train the novices at different Academies."

"Dimitri will never believe that I would send Viktoria off with a strange man—no offense, Lord Ivashkov."

"None taken—don't worry. Strange is probably the least offensive thing I've been called today," he replied.

"I will chaperone—Dimitri cannot object to that." Yeva shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her; I felt a wave of guilt for letting her stand so long in the garden, knowing how her joints often pained her. "If we tell him I suggested it… he will not argue. He knows better."

Abe rubbed his hands together, chuckling. "There—see? Problem solved. He'll probably be relieved, truth be told. No man wants to be caught in the middle when two women he loves are quarrelling—and it will give him a chance to unruffled Rose's feathers and soothe her wounded pride."

"But… surely they will find it suspicious if Lord Ivashkov disappears too?" Mama frowned, shaking her head. "This is the problem with lies—one leads to another, then another, and before you know it you are so ensnared in their web that there's no escaping it."

"I take off all the time and disappear for days on end. All I have to do is drop a few hints that I'm going to Vegas or a party out of town." Adrian leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees again, trying to charm my mother with his smile. "And the research part is true. Today… I saw… something that made me want to check a few of the books Lissa and I read back when we were trying to find out more about our element."

I shot him a questioning look, wondering what he meant—but he didn't look my way; his eyes were fastened on my mother, waiting for her answer.

"In all his life… my son has never judged a person unfairly. Dimitri is a level headed man who is not quick to make assumptions—and he does not base his opinion of someone on idle talk or rumor. He is an excellent judge of character—"

"Not always," Yeva pointed out. "His friendship with the Ozera woman almost cost him something he treasured above all else."

"In the big guy's defense—Tasha had everyone fooled, including Lissa and me," Adrian offered, then looked startled by his own admission. "Jesus… I can't believe I just said that." His green eyes flicked over to me and then to my grandmother, filled with confusion and surprise. "I actually _took up for him._"

"Yes… you certainly did." Yeva smiled, looking smug. "I stand corrected. No one was aware there was a viper in their midst."

"As I was saying before I was interrupted," Mama continued, eyeing my grandmother as if she were waiting for another interjection, "Despite the fact I have never known Dimitri to be wrong… only the Savior above is perfect… so it _is_ possible that in this instance… Dimitri is mistaken. I am willing to give you a chance to prove it, Lord Ivashkov—but mark my words. If you hurt my Vika… I promise you that anything my son might do to you will seem _mild_ when compared to what her sisters and I will do. Do you understand me?"

I cringed internally; her threats were pointless in light of the way he'd distanced himself from me earlier. The longer I sat there, the more convinced I was that the only reason he'd come tonight was because Abe had insisted—probably an attempt to cover his own ass in case his precious daughter got wind of his involvement in the situation. "Mama—"

"I understand Ms. Belikova." He stood up, reaching for her hand to shake on it. "And I promise… you won't regret it."

I glared at him, wondering exactly how long he planned to continue the farce—a day, maybe two at most, then he'd be saying that we'd rushed head first into things and needed to take a step back. I couldn't take anymore—I needed to get out of there before I started to cry. "If that is all, may I be excused? I am very tired and feel a little ill. I'd like to go back to bed."

Mama nodded, her eyes flicking from Adrian to me. "You may go Vika… but do not _ever_ lie to me again. Trust is easily shattered… and much harder to repair."

"Yes mama. I am sorry for my actions." Ignoring the Moroi beside her, I pressed my lips against her cheek—then moved to do the same thing to my grandmother before fleeing from the room.

Before I'd gone down a single flight I heard the door to the stairwell opening above me; I bolted, skidding off the landing and sprinting down the two remaining flights—instinctively knowing who it was, even before he called out to me.

"Vika—slow down!"

I ignored him, still irritated and confused by his actions and my own tumultuous feeling—but he caught up with me midway down the corridor before I'd reached the safety of my room.

"Hey—didn't you hear me?" He grabbed my elbow, making me stumble.

I jerked my arm free as I righted myself, turning to face him, my face an emotionless mask. "Yes, Did you need something?"

His smile wilted a little around the edges. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine, why?"

"You're acting like…" he eyed the air around me, smile completely fading. "You're pissed. At me. What—"

"Don't be ridiculous—why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know—You tell me."

"Look—I got the message earlier, okay? I don't know what all that was up there—" I waved my hand towards the stairwell, narrowing my eyes, "but you don't have to—"

"Message? What message? When… I didn't send you any message."

I had to hand it to him, he looked completely clueless. "When you brushed me off earlier. I'm not stupid, Adrian. Just because it was my first time doesn't mean—"

"That's what you think?" He studied me for a minute, then sighed. "I _told_ you I had things I had to do—one of them being telling your mother the truth."

"It's not what you _said_—it's how you were _acting_!" It came out louder than I'd intended, my voice echoing down the hall. I winced at how hurt my tone sounded; it betrayed more than I'd wanted to. "You got all… distant. Like you couldn't wait to get away from me."

"So you assumed your brother and Rose were right—well thanks a hell of a lot for the vote of confidence Viktoria. Jesus!" His voice was just as loud as mine, filled with indignant anger.

I dropped my gaze, unable to stand the disappointment I saw reflected in his eyes as he stared at me. "I won't lie to you… their warnings did cross my mind—but I ignored them. I thought it was because you saw me in the garden. You know… the vision. I know it's not normal… what happens to me. I understood why you wanted to leave—but it hurt. A lot."

"You think I care about fucking _normal_?" He laughed, but it held no humor; it was bitter sounding, making me flinch. "To set the record straight—I used a hell of a lot of Spirit today… and it got to me. I could feel myself slipping… and I didn't want _you_ to see it. Your vision didn't have anything to do with it—I knew I had to get a drink pretty damned fast or I'd go loony toons in front of you!"

I remained silent, studying my toenail polish intently—then immediately found myself wishing my feet weren't so exposed, given his close proximity. It was an absurd thought to have in the middle of a quarrel, but it was the effect he had on me—I wanted to be perfect for him… and I knew that I wasn't... in far too many ways to count.

"Angel," he sighed, moving closer," trust me—compared to my episodes… what happened to you today was nothing. I know what it feels like to be different—I didn't specialize when everyone else did… and I thought it made me a freak. I'd never want to make you feel that way."

"But you found out the reason eventually—why you were different. I don't have one,"

"You're not a freak. Trust me—I've met quite a few of them over the years. You're…special."

I looked up at him doubtfully. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better? Or to—"

"What? Get you into bed? I think we've already established I don't need to lie for that to happen." He chuckled softly, hesitantly reaching out to stroke his fingers along my cheek. "I didn't want to leave earlier. I had to. I went straight to Abe's and had a few drinks while I filled him in on what had happened at lunch… and how I wanted to come clean to your mom. I wanted his advice on how to handle it. Abe may be a lot of things, but he's smooth and can talk his way out of anything… and it's a good thing I went because Rose called while I was there, wanting to grill him about his 'new employee'."

"She needs to mind her own damn business," I mumbled, leaning into his touch.

"He said he's going to have to teach you a few things about what 'keeping him updated' means." He smiled, sliding an arm around my waist. "I stopped by my room and picked up a few things too and got—"

The sound of the elevator bell startled both of us; he jerked away, digging in his pocket and sliding my ring on his finger—but it was only one of my neighbors, an elderly Moroi man who was staying in the suite next to mine. We watched him enter his room, then I glanced over at my door, feeling almost…shy—which was ridiculous, considering what had passed between us the night before.

"Do you… want to come in?"

"I don't know," he deadpanned, "I still might have some things I need to do…"

"Smart ass," I muttered, unlocking the door. This time, he followed me, sliding the small duffle bag he'd been carrying off his shoulder and tossing it on the floor.

"Are you really tired—or was that just an excuse to escape?"

"A little bit of both, but for the most part an excuse," I admitted, moving into the kitchen. "Have you eaten?"

He gave me a devilish smile, licking his lips. "Not since last night."

I blushed, opening the refrigerator, letting the cool air inside take the heat from my cheeks as I studied it's contents. "I meant real food, Dusha… not…_that._ Oksa—the spirit user back home—says that being hungry makes it harder to deal with Spirit's side effects… so it's important you eat."

"Rose mentioned her before… I'd like to meet her. I think I could probably learn a lot if I spent some time with her." He leaned against the counter, playing with the keys I'd dropped. "I ate… yesterday. I think. In the morning. Are you hungry? We could go—"

"Sit. I have food here. It won't be anything fancy, but it will be filling—and that's what you need." I frowned at the selection, pulling out a few things and setting them on the counter. When I glanced over at him, he was watching me with the strangest expression on his face. "What? Don't tell me no girl has ever cooked for you before?"

"They haven't. I mean—my mother did… but not a girl that I was… um… seeing."

I smiled, amused at the way he tried to categorize what was happening between us—not that I had a better word for it. "Well then… I guess I get to be the first one. I better make it good, huh?"

We fell into silence as I bustled around the kitchen—boiling water for the noodles and browning the beef strips—but it wasn't like the empty silence that had been so heavy and smothering as we'd walked across Court earlier. It was comfortable and easy—and it felt so very familiar; he moved closer, and I included him in the preparation, asking him to hand me things or stir the mixture while I tore up a salad. He seemed to enjoy the small tasks, laughing when he spattered himself with sour cream or tickling my sides when I bumped him out of the way with my hip—it was like this was the thousandth meal we'd prepared together instead of the first.

And with each minute that passed… I felt him imbedding himself in my heart a little more.

"If you don't mind eating on the couch… I brought a movie. I bought it before I went to see your mom."

I glanced over at him as I dished up the Stroganoff, smiling at how anxious he looked—like he thought I might refuse him. "Did you buy it with me in mind, moy Dusha?"

"Well… yeah. It's the one I mentioned last night. I felt… sentimental, I guess. About the song we danced to."

"I would like very much to see it—but you shouldn't have spent your money on me." I frowned, not liking the thought of him using the little bit of money he had on something for me.

"Relax—it wasn't that much." He brushed his lips against my cheek, taking the plates from my hands. "You get the salad… I'll pop in the movie."

I balanced the salad bowls on my arm, grabbing two bottles of water, following after him and setting them on the table—then laughed at what he had in his hand. "Ah—and I see you have brought me your mending as well?"

"Hey—you said you would fix it. Took me forever to find all the buttons." He set the shirt and buttons on the table, moving towards the TV. "It was totally worth it though. In fact, Maybe after you sew it you can rip it off me again."

"I will—sew it I mean. Hold on, don't start the movie yet. Let me grab my sewing kit and I'll fix it after we eat."

When I returned with what I'd need, we both sank down on the floor, digging into the simple meal that we'd prepared together; his eyes widened with appreciative surprise and he complimented my skills—it was funny, but I'd never realized that a few words could affect me so greatly. Hearing that he liked my cooking made my heart sing in my chest—and so did the way his arm slid around me, pulling me closer when the princess in the movie started to sing along with the music we'd danced to.

"See—told you the song was appropriate," he murmured as the song ended, moving to stretch out on the couch behind me as I reached for my sewing.

"Mhmmm… and me dreaming about you ahead of time. It was the perfect choice," I deftly threaded my needle, squinting my eyes as I concentrated on making the stitches small and precise.

"So… the visions can't be all bad, right? They're sort of worth it since we met—not to sound conceited or anything."

"Dreaming of you I can handle—it's the other things that I can't." I tied off the knot, eying the first button I'd sewn on to make sure it was in the right place.

"Are you ready to talk about it—what freaked you out this afternoon?" When I remained silent he sighed. "I don't mean what you saw… you don't have to tell me that. I meant why you got so upset when your grandmother said she saw my aunt."

I stared down at the shirt, not sure how to answer. "I want to talk about it… I'm just not sure how to explain it"

"It's easy—you just tell me what's wrong… and I try to make you feel better about it," he offered, his voice soft.

His fingers combed through my hair; it was a soothing gesture, making me lean back into his touch like a contented cat, basking in its masters attention. "I think maybe I should be worried that you know me so well already."

"You forget—I saw what you were feeling in your aura."

"Ah—and here I thought you were just extremely observant."

"I am—but that's beside the point." When I chuckled, he gently tugged at my hair, pulling my head back so I was staring up into his eyes. "I am. I notice all sorts of things that most people don't."

"Like?" I smiled at him, raising my eyebrows.

"Ohhhh—challenging me? Fine… let's see… when you concentrate on something—like threading your needle—the tip of your tongue slips out at the corner of your mouth."

"It does not!"

"Mhmmm. It does. And when you get irritated… you get a little wrinkle—right here" He brushed his finger between my eyebrows, then slid it down the length of my nose. "And when you disagree with something but are trying to hold it in… your nose… twitches."

"You make me sound like a rabbit!" I protested, frowning.

"What's wrong with that? It's a cute habit…like a rabbit." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Oh man—now I know I'm screwed. You've got me making rhymes."

He continued tracing the planes and angles of my face with his fingertips, his touch feathery light as they skimmed across my skin; I closed my eyes, letting myself enjoy the sensation as I tried to summon up the courage to tell him what I feared.

"I'm scared that if Yeva is seeing ghosts… I might too." It was a whisper, barely spoken. "When I started having visions… it terrified me, but I learned to live with it. But since we've come here… they've gotten so much stronger… and some of them… I don't want to see things that aren't meant to be seen, Dusha."

"I understand… maybe I'm the only one that can. When I started seeing auras… I thought I was cracking up at first. And sometimes… I get glimpses of things—nothing as strong as you do or your grandmother—but hints of things. I've been told I space out and start rambling,,, I suppose it's a little like what happened to your grandmother today." He pressed his lips against my forehead, sighing. "But Angel… if we see things that other people don't… doesn't it mean we're _meant_ to see them?"

"I don't know," I answered, shrugging my shoulders. "Maybe. It still doesn't make it any less terrifying."

"True… hey—I bet I know one thing you want to see—but can't." He shifted, pulling away and walking over to his bag, returning with a folded sheet of paper that he slid into my hands.

"What's this?"

He shrugged, smiling. "That… is Guardian Johnson. Told you I'd sketch it out for you.

I opened it, staring at the penciled sketch with amazement. "You drew this? Dusha! It's so good!"

I'd thought—mistakenly—that his attempts would be amateurish. I'd been so, so wrong. The portrait was almost as clear as a photograph would be, the shading precise and the lines perfect. Gazing down at the illusion he'd woven for himself, I suddenly understood why Roza had seemed so insistent that the dhampir with me was good looking—the man in the drawing resembled my brother so much that they could have been kin. It was like Adrian had merged his own features with Dimitri's, creating a man that was absolutely amazing to look at. "Wow… now I know why Roza said Johnson was a hunk."

"Huh? She said that?"

"Yes, she was quite adamant that I admit he was good looking—I bet it's because he looks so much like Dimitri."

"I didn't do it for her approval… though I'm sure she'd think that was the reason. I thought if I looked a little like him he'd be more likely to approve of me hanging out with his little sister."

"Whatever the reason… he is very handsome. But not was handsome as you are." I set the drawing down, returning to my sewing. "You know… I told you something that scared me… I think it is only fair you return the favor"

"I'm scared of losing my mind," he said, sinking back down on the couch and resting his chin on my shoulder.

"So am I… and if I actually see a ghost—that is a very real possibility." I rested my head against his, then cursed under my breath when my needle dug into my thumb, drawing blood. "Damn it! That hurt!"

I dropped the shirt, not wanting to stain it and was on the verge of popping my thumb into my mouth, when I got a better idea. I shifted a little, brushing my thumb across his lips, leaving a smear of blood. "I think the pain will go away if you kiss it for me… please?"

He made a hushed sound of pleasure as his tongue swept along his lips then swiped against the pad of my thumb. I slipped it into his mouth, smiling as I gazed into his eyes, my free hand moving to caress his cheek. I'd never considered my thumb to be a particularly sensitive part of my body, but as he gently sucked on it, my reaction was instantaneous; my nipples peaked and things low in my body tightened in response to what he was doing. Unfortunately, it only lasted a moment, then he was moving my hand away—but his heavy breathing and dilated pupils told me he was aroused too.

"You don't have to… you know. I'd never expect that."

"I know you wouldn't." I smiled. "But why waste it when you could enjoy it?"

"You know… you keep surprising me. Without even meaning to, I think. Most girls wouldn't have thought of that."

"I'm not most girls." I turned back around to resume my mending. "It's your turn again by the way—I said I was scared of losing my mind too."

"You scare me," he whispered.

"Me? Why?" I glanced back over my shoulder at him, arching a brow.

"Because… being here with you… watching you cook and sew… it makes me feel… I don't know. I like it. Maybe too much." His brow wrinkled as he frowned, looking troubled. "I shouldn't feel this way—not so fast. It isn't good. Even last night after I left the dance… I kept thinking about you… wanting to see you again. The last time I saw a girl and felt… instantly infatuated… it ended badly. She decimated me, Angel. I'm scared it will happen again."

I was silent for a moment, trying to ignore the way my heart lurched at the mention of some other girl. "I'd never do that… hurt you. I don't know if it helps… but this…_thing_ between us—I feel it too. And I'm a little afraid of it myself. You're right… it's happening very fast… and I can't stop thinking about you either. I'm afraid… that it will make you run away from me."

"Shit… I guess that means it's my turn again." He moved away from me, stretching out on his back to stare up at the ceiling. "I have something I need to tell you… but I'm afraid it will push you away—that you won't want to be around me anymore once you hear it…and I don't want that."

"There is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would do that, Dusha." I set down the sewing, turning to reach for his hand. "I promise."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," he said softly, his thumb rubbing across the back of my hand. "The girl I mentioned… she's the first girl I ever fell in love with… and I still have feelings for her. I think I still love her—and as much as I hate it… I probably always will."

I felt a sharp ache in the center of my body—like I'd been kicked in the solar plexus; my head instantly dropped down so he wouldn't see the tears that sprang up in my eyes. "I see… well thank you for being honest about it."

"That's not the worst of it," He whispered. "It's—"

"No! I do not need to hear any more, thank you. That is enough." I pulled my hand away, turning to stare down at the coffee table. It was stupid for me to feel so shattered—but I couldn't help it. He was my heart… and he loved someone else. "Why aren't you with her right now instead of here with me?"

"She cheated on me… left me for someone else. That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's the reason—"

"I do not need to know any reasons or details or anything else, Adrian. It's enough to know your heart belongs to someone else." _When you have already claimed mine, I added silently._

"I knew this would happen… I'm sorry. I just wanted to be honest and—"

"It's probably for the best—after all, I'm only here for a few weeks and then I have to go back to school." I cut him off, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"Wait—you're leaving? I thought you guys were just moving in… I don't want you to leave."

"Well, we all want things we can't have, don't we? Besides, maybe by then this girl will see the error of her ways and want you back."

"Yeah—that's not going to happen. You might say I was a rebound for her… she's back with the one she loves."

"I am sorry… that she hurt you." I bit my lip, trying to rationalize things out in my head. I was hurting, but did that mean I should waste the time I had to be with him? The answer… was a resounding 'no'. "I think… we should just enjoy our time together for what it is…and when I go back to school—"

"I don't want you to leave," he repeated. "I may be a fucked up mess and not understand a lot of what I'm feeling—but I'm positive about that. The thought of never seeing you again… makes me panic."

"If you still feel that way in a few months… I could come back. Or you could come visit me." I glanced over my shoulder at him, feeling just as confused and mixed up as he claimed he was. "Maybe by then we'll both understand what we're feeling. I just know that I want to spend as much time with you as I can and not worry about the future—and I don't want to spend it fretting about your feelings for some other girl."

"I don't like it when you call me Adrian… it makes me feel like you're pulling away from me. And despite the fact I still have feelings for her…. I'm starting to have them for you too."

"I didn't mean it that way… it just … I can't call you an endearment in the wake of your telling me you love someone else." He reached for me and I went willingly, letting him pull me into his arms as I fought to control my tears.

"Don't cry… I'm so sorry Angel… I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered, hands gently stroking my back.

"I can't help it… I know it's stupid… but it hurts." I curled my body around his, burying my face in his chest.

"It's not stupid… or… maybe it is—but I understand. I feel it too."

I almost pulled away, pointing out that he felt it for _her_—but I didn't. I wouldn't allow his past to destroy whatever was growing between us.

"You're right…we'll just take it day by day and see what happens," he whispered, his lips brushing against my head. "And I hate to say this… God I hate to say this… but I want you to know I understand if you don't want to have sex with me again until I get my feelings sorted out. I don't want you to feel like I'm using you or—"

"You do realize that would be as big a punishment for me, right?" I asked dryly, brushing the wetness off my cheeks and giving him a look. "I happen to have enjoyed it quite a bit."

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Hey—I didn't say I wanted you to do it. I was just trying to be a gentleman. Fine—neither of us likes that idea… so how about we just limit ourselves a little? Tonight they'll just be cuddling… then tomorrow we can make up for it in the bathroom on the plane."

"Dusha! My grandmother will be on board!"

"So? She likes me—and I have a feeling she already knows what we did. When I sat down next to her she muttered something about being more careful next time."

"Well.. she's right—and we will be."

He sifted on the couch so we were laying facing each other, our arms wrapped around each other, lips brushing from time to time. "You're getting sleepy… is it alright if I come into your dreams when you drift off?"

"Of course… you don't have to ask… but only if it won't put too much strain on you." He was right, I _was _tired, but before I allowed myself to drift, there was something I had to know. "Upstairs… you said you saw something today that made you want to check those books. What was it?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Before you had your vision… do you remember me saying something about Yeva's aura?"

"Yes, about it being… amazing or something," I mumbled, sleepily, fingers tangling in his hair as I burrowed closer to him.

"Yeah… it was… it shifted…then you had yours and it happened again—only it was even brighter."

"And that means something?" My lips brushed against his neck as I nuzzled my face into the hollow of his throat, sleep dragging me under.

His voice was soft, sounding almost dreamy. "I'd say so—since the minute your vision hit and your aura shifted… it flared like a supernova, Angel—and it looked exactly like a Spirit users does."

It was the last thing I head before sleeping—and the first thing I freaked out about when he pulled me into the dream.

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_**A/N: Sorry I didn't get this up on Sunday—between my moms doctors appointments on Friday and it being my sister's birthday over the weekend... life was chaotic. Hope you enjoy it—next one will be up in a day or two. :o)**_


	11. Chapter 11—Abscondment

_**A/N: TRIGGER WARNING—part of this chapter deals with the abuse Dimitri referenced in VA. If you are triggered by domestic violence or child abuse, proceed with caution.**_

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_As I write this entry and look back, reflecting on what occurred, I can readily admit that I probably could have handled things a bit better; in my defense though, in light of his confession and the minefield we navigated in our shared dream… I honestly did the best I could considering the circumstances—so I should at least get credit for that, right? It was… intense—to put it mildly; by the time we woke up, we were both drained—physically and emotionally—although it was for completely different reasons…_

One moment I was laying cuddled against him, then the next I was standing in the garden. A gentle breeze caressed my bare shoulders, blowing my hair in my face and rustling the full skirt of the dress I'd worn to the party—but Adrian was nowhere in sight. I heard a noise—the scuffling of dried leaves as if under someone's foot—but I couldn't see what was causing it; I was momentarily blinded by the glare of the bright, mid-day sun overhead, rapidly blinking as my pupils tried to adjust to the change. When I could focus, I could see the source of the sound was Adrian—he was standing on the other side of the statue, staring at the flowers he'd planted with a look of disgust on his face.

"What in the hell do you mean saying my aura looked like a Spirit user's?" I stormed over, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face me. "That's impossible!"

"Don't kill the messenger—I don't make the news, I just report it." His eyes ran over me, lips curved up in a smile. "Relax Angel—we'll figure it out. That's why we're going to Saint Vlad's."

"Dhampir's don't have access to magic," I huffed, wondering how he could be so calm about the entire situation. He was acting like it was an everyday occurrence while I felt so wound up and tense that I thought I might explode.

"I know that—but it doesn't change the fact that when your…whatever it is… kicks in, your aura looks almost exactly like mine and Lissa's. Speaking of which—we really need to figure out something to call it."

"Yeva calls it a gift… or the sight." I didn't bother to mention that I called it the curse; I'd always thought it was fitting considering it was just as much trouble as the monthly bodily function that shared the same moniker.

"That'll work." He moved a strand of hair out of my face, his long fingers sliding down to caress my shoulder.

"But… how can it look like that? I don't understand!" As nice as his light, teasing touch felt, I couldn't relax—my mind had already been plagued with Yeva and her ghost encounter. Adding this on top of that issue was pushing me closer to the edge of breaking.

"Neither do I… I told you—you're special. So is your grandmother. I've never seen anyone's aura do that—and believe me, I've seen thousands of them." He thought about it for a minute, green eyes intently studying my face. "Does your mom have visions too? Your brother?"

"No—not that I'm aware of."

"Well we need to find out for certain."

"That's not exactly something I can come right out and ask them," I pointed out, frowning as I sank down on the ground, absentmindedly trailing my fingers along the grass. "They don't know I have visions… it might make them suspicious—and I don't want that."

"So we'll get Yeva to ask them." He shrugged, smiling as he flopped down beside me. "I have a feeling she gets away with asking some pretty outlandish things."

"You don't know the half of it." I thought about it for a moment, chewing the corner of my lip. "I know for certain that my sisters don't have it—both of them just roll their eyes when Yeva talks about the sight. They don't outright disbelieve… but… it's just the way they act. They wouldn't be so dismissive if they'd ever experienced a vision."

"Your brother…" He frowned, his eyes flicking away from my face, back over to the flowers he'd been looking at before I'd grabbed him. "I remember him showing up at the most inopportune times. I always wondered how he managed to do it… maybe this is the answer. He could have a touch of it… get hunches and bursts of intuition."

"Or he's just observant. Grandmother trained him to be that way from the time he was very, very small. She tried it with Karo and Sonya too… but they never really took to her lessons. Not like Dimitri and I did." His calm assurance that we'd figure things out was slowly erasing the intensity of my fear; I bumped my shoulder against his, giving him a faint smile. "It's funny… you dislike my brother, but you don't have a problem with me… and yet Dimitri and I… we're a lot alike in many ways."

"Please tell me you don't have a freaky cowboy obsession like he does." He continues studying the flowers, reaching out to touch one of the large rose blooms that drooped on its narrow, spindly stem.

"Maybe when I was younger—but that was probably only because when I was six I had a very large brother who made the perfect horse when I wanted to play." I watched, amazed as the bloom he touched withered before my eyes; it blackened, drying out, its petals drifting down to the ground. His finger moved to another, repeating the gesture. "Dusha… are you alright?"

"Hmm? I'm fine. Not feeling crazy… or not too much more crazy than I normally do, if that's what you mean." Another bloom shriveled, decaying before my eyes, and then another after that.

"Then why…" my voice trailed off; I was unsure how to point out that using magic to pointlessly destroy flowers didn't seem exactly sane.

"Am I getting rid of the roses? Because I don't like them—and they hurt you." He reached over, grabbing my hand, his head ducking down to press a kiss against my injured palm.

"But… Yeva said your aunt loves this garden. She might not be too pleased at you killing her flowers, Dusha."

He made a scoffing noise, dropping my palm. Another rose withered beneath his deadly touch. "Trust me—she hates roses. I bet she had a fit when I planted them—unless she just bit her tongue and put up with them for my sake the way she did when she was alive about… other things."

"Then… why did you do it?" There was a look on his face that concerned me; it was one I'd often seen on the training mats when someone threw a punch a little harder than they meant to, knocking their sparring partner to the ground. The injured party almost always stood with an expression on their face that was similar to the one Adrian was wearing—like they would get back at the person who threw the punch, no matter how long it took.

"To remind myself that even the most beautiful things sometimes have an ugly side… just waiting to tear you to shreds. It's why I made the thorns so big—so people wouldn't be so taken in with the beauty that they missed the danger and ended up in pain." He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing—as if he was trying to remember something. "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would not be sweet, no matter how hard you tried to please it." His eyes opened, locking with mine—they were full of pain, and there was a dazed look in their depths that made my worry grow by leaps and bounds. "Besides… this is all just a dream Angel—the roses will still be alive in the garden when we wake up."

"Are you sure about that?" I frowned, eyeing the decayed blooms. "When I woke up from our last dream… there was evidence of what we'd been doing. My lips were all swollen and red—Dimitri noticed right away. He thought you were hiding in my suite."

His eyes widened at the news. "That shouldn't be possible. As a matter of fact… if you're immune to Spirit… how are we even here? I use Spirit to create all this so theoretically I shouldn't be able to pull you in at all." His brow furrowed as he studied me, worrying his lip with his fangs. "Unless… it all ties into the whole aura thing. How do you tell the difference between the ones that are visions and what's just a dream?" His expression grew more troubled as he questioned me; he looked almost… confused as his eyes moved away from my face, flicking around the garden before returning to the roses.

"It's hard to explain… it's just… more _real. _Like the difference in a cheap television and one that's really expensive—with a clearer, sharper picture, you know? And they… feel different. What's really odd is that this… it _feels_ like vision, not a dream. So maybe that's why it works… I guess."

"Huh?" His gaze returned to me, but he looked completely lost—as if he'd forgotten what we were discussing entirely.

"You asked me about my visions?" I studied him, trying to ignore the feeling of panic I felt at the dazed look in his eyes.

"Did I?" I must be more tired than I thought… I keep… drifting." He frowned, pulling his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them; in that moment he looked so very young… and extremely worried too. "I didn't get to finish telling you what I needed to earlier—before you fell asleep. It will upset you but—"

"If it's about that girl… I told you—I don't want to hear any more." I cut him off, getting to my feet, irritated at myself for feeling concern over his mental well being when he had obviously just been lost in thought—thinking about _her_. "If that's why you brought me here—"

"It is. I have to tell you Angel… and this way,,, you can't run from me. Well… that's not true. You can run, but you can't escape the garden, so I'll be able to catch you." He stood up, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples—and when he did, the rose bush he'd been destroying little by little practically exploded in a shower of dead leaves and petals. "Your grandmother said I had to tell you, remember? This afternoon, right before she saw Aunt Tati… she said 'the only way to escape the past and fully embrace the future—the road must be paved with many things… the most important of them being the truth.'… so even though you don't want to talk about it… we have to if we want to try and…" He shook his head, making a frustrated sound and running his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. Hard to think right now. Sometimes when my emotions get too strong… Spirit gets the upper hand."

The skin at the base of my neck prickled; a moment later, chill bumps danced across my skin—a warning, perhaps, that whatever it was he felt he had to tell me was something that I didn't want to know. Even more irritating was the fact that as uneasy as I was, my concern for his well-being overrode any worries I had about myself. "Adrian—"

"You know… you never asked me why I don't like your brother. Aren't you curious? At all? Most girls would be." Another rose bush died, drying up even faster than the first had.

"No—I'm not. I'm sure you have your reasons, just like he has his for not liking…" I stopped abruptly, the pieces starting to slide into place in my brain. Their intense dislike for each other—so strong it almost boarded on hatred at times; the way my brother had tiptoed around the issue, saying that Adrian hated him for things that happened… with good reason. Abe's determination to set things right—and his concern over Adrian's happiness. The strange way he'd twisted Shakespeare's quote—and the roses… so many fucking roses… all with razor sharp thorns. No… not her! Anyone but her! I'd been dreaming about him for years—but she had swooped in and stolen his heart before I'd even got a chance to claim it.

"I hate her!" It came out a hiss of pent up rage, my emotions so strong they left me shaking. "Ever since she came into my life she's done nothing but ruin things—I wish she were as dead as those fucking roses!"

He spun to face me, his green eyes wide and stunned. "Don't say that Angel—"

"Oh no! God forbid I say what I feel about precious fucking Roza!"

"No! It's not that at all—it's… you're not that kind of person," he reached for my hands but I jerked back, so furious that I didn't want to be touched.

"You don't know the kind of person I am, Adrian," I scoffed, "you don't know me at all."

"I do. I don't know how I know… but I do. You're sweet and kind and… good. You respect people, even when they're rude to you, and you are empathetic to what other people are feeling. You're… full of light and happiness and hope, Angel. You chase away my darkness." He approached me slowly, the way you would a stray dog that looked like it might bite, hands darting out to grab my arms before I could retreat further. "You're perfect… you're meant to be here… with me."

Roza's look of smug self-assurance as she insisted he'd only kissed me to get under my brother's skin flashed across my brain. "Is that why you approached me at the party Adrian? Because you sensed those things in me? Or was there another reason altogether?"

His eyes dropped from mine and he remained silent, but his grip on my arms tightened ever so slightly; at that moment, it hit me like a surprise punch, making my stomach clench painfully. I spoke, having trouble forcing the hurtful words out—but I had to know the truth. "You did it to make her jealous... that's what she was going to say today wasn't it? When Yeva cut her off?"

"Yes but—"

"Let me go. Right now." I had to get away from him—far, far away, out of the dream entirely before I completely broke down. Roza had been right all along. He'd used me in a pathetic attempt to hurt _her._

"Angel—just listen to me. Please—"

"Let. Me. Go." It came out a growl.

There were a torrent of emotions swamping me that I needed to deal with on my own; pain and confusion battled with a dark, poisonous rage towards Roza—not just for being involved with Adrian and hurting him, but also for the way she had _betrayed_ my brothers love. I needed to be away—outside, where I could think. It was just like after the disagreement in the café with Roza on the day I'd found the garden; it was my way of coping—a survival instinct that was deeply ingrained within me, dating back to childhood—and I couldn't ignore it...even more so, I didn't _want _ to.

"You have to hear it all Vika. You're not going anywhere, not until I'm finished—"

His words sparked something deep inside me, making a long suppressed memory stir awake inside my mind; I tried to pull away—but his hands tightened even more, making me panic as my ears filled with the roaring beat of my heart. There was a pressure building inside of me— the one I equated with the visions and the headaches they always spawned—growing so strong within my skull that it felt to the point of bursting. It was more painful than it had ever been before, almost crippling me with its intensity. "I want to get out of here! Right NOW!"

The back hedge of the garden vanished.

One minute it was there—and the next it was gone, leaving a gaping dark opening in its place. The landscape beyond was dim and shadowy, filled with a foggy mist that pressed against the boundary of Adrian's bright dreamscape, rolling like smoke against a wall of glass—but it did not breach the opening. I gasped in surprise; the sound made Adrian glance over his shoulder—immediately he froze, his fingers digging painfully into my arms.

"Holy shit!" His amazement didn't break my fight or flight reaction; my struggling increased—but still he determinedly held on. "Vika... you just—"

"Let me go! I _have _to get out of here!" I didn't know where the dark opening lead—but I didn't care. All I knew was that it was somewhere _else, _away from all the roses that surrounded me, drowning me with their thick, overpowering scent—a reminder of Adrian's love and devotion to _her..._ my brother's girlfriend. Even more importantly, instinctively I sensed that I had to escape before the memory that his words had awoken swam up to through the depths and hit my conscious mind. Whatever it was... it was something horrible—something I'd purposefully forgotten; in my heightened state of anxiety, the walls I'd surrounded it with were crumbling, brick by brick—and I didn't have the strength or focus to keep them intact. I couldn't face whatever it was—I already had more to deal with than I could handle.

"Listen to me! Whatever that is... _I didn't make it._ I'm not letting you near it until we know where it leads!_"_

Maybe if I'd been rational, his words would have held some meaning—but I wasn't. Because right at that moment, the memory breached the surface and I was propelled back into the past, reverted back to the five year old girl I'd been so long ago. It wasn't Adrian that held me in an iron tight grip—but my own personal boogeyman, the one that had haunted my nightmare for so many years. I wasn't in the garden, but back home in Baia, cowering on the floor at the foot of the stairs—screaming in pain as my father's belt cracked down across my cheek.

I threw my arms up, breaking free of the grasp that held me; gathering up my long skirt, I bolted for freedom—running like Satan himself were on my heels, trying to lay claim to my soul. I crossed over into the threshold, into the shadowy twilight; the air was cold—almost frigid—cooling my overheated skin, but I didn't notice. I had no time to feel relief, because the very nightmare I'd fled from was taking shape, right before my eyes. The mists swirled together, forming a figure a few feet in front of me; I stared in horror as its features became more defined, my breath catching in my throat—then I began to scream.

"You're not going anywhere you little bitch," it hissed, arm drawing back as the mists formed a dangling, leather strap. "Not until I'm through with you!"

My knees buckled; I wrapped my arms around my head, sagging towards the ground. I heard the sound of that belt cutting through the air as I cowered, waiting for the pain to start—but strong arms closed around my waist before it struck my tender skin, jerking me backwards with so much force we spilled out of the icy shadows and back into the sunlight of the garden. I heard my father's voice in the distance, screaming with impotent rage; immediately I curled up in a ball, sobbing and shaking—flinching when a hand stroked my back, unable to process the touch was gentle and not one meant to wound.

"Viktoria... it's not real sweetheart. It's all a dream. Your panic created what you expected to see. Shhh... I won't hurt you. Just look at me Angel... there's no one here except you and me."

I didn't lift my head—I couldn't. If I did the blows would begin, raining down on me without end. If I looked up I'd feel that belt across my face and I'd choke on the blood it drew.

Someone grabbed my arm, trying to pull me upright; I resisted—whispering the name of the only person who could save me. Over and over again I said Dimitri's name—it was a liturgy; I was praying to my brother as if he were God, begging him to save me the way he had on that horrible, long forgotten day.

I heard a deep sigh, then the hands fell away from my back; there was a rush of warmth, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, warm on my shoulders as it chased away the frigid chill that had lay claim to me—then a voice spoke... the only one that could reach through my hysteria, soothing my battered mind. "Viktoria... are you alright? Why are you huddled up on the ground?"

It was Dimitri... he had come, an answer to my prayers. I lifted my head—just a little—peeking out from under the tangle of my hair, still terrified of the face I'd seen lurking in the shadows. "Papa is here," I whispered, "he has his belt and—"

"No Vika, there is no one here but you and me... look around Ang—" he paused for a moment, his stoic handsome face contorting into a unfamiliar scowl. Reaching down, he gently pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me, holding me while I cried. "It's just a dream. Only a dream little sister. You need to wake up... can you do that for me?"

"I don't know how," I whispered, my face buried in his chest.

"Concentrate on where you _really_ are—the living room of your suite. Focus on the last thing you remember before you fell asleep—you were talking to Adrian, remember?"

I pulled back, confused. "No... I... how do you know that?"

"You're making this hard Angel, when it's as simple as opening your eyes. I could wake you up—but it'd mean leaving you here alone for a few seconds... and I don't want to risk you wandering in there again—it's not safe."

"You're not Dimitri!" My whisper was enough to break the illusion—my brother's concerned brown eyes were immediately replaced with bright green ones, the chiseled features softening a little as they faded away and Adrian's more aristocratic ones took their place.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know if it would work but you were... you thought it was real. You kept calling for him."

The panic and rush of adrenaline was retreating, leaving me exhausted and drained; I was still shaky, but seeing my brother... what I'd thought was my brother... had been enough to snap me out of my hysteria, grounding me in a way that nothing else could. Slowly I began to rebuild the walls inside myself, locking the past away with mental bricks and mortar, banishing my the fear my father had planted that long ago day to the recesses of my mind. "I... thank you. I know how distasteful it must have been for you... pretending to be him. In light of... everything."

"We can discuss all that once we get out of here—until we figure out what the hell that is... I don't think we should share any more dreams." His arms tightened around me as he steered me over to the bench, distancing us from the shadows.

"It didn't happen the first time," I murmured, trying not to look over at the opening—afraid I'd see my father's face peering out at me. "Maybe subconsciously you were trying to help me... letting me see that there was a way out."

"I didn't make that opening appear Vika . You did."

"No I didn't—I have no control in my visions. I've tried to stop them... to not see things before. Imagining my father...yes. I can accept that—but creating that? There's no way. It's impossible."

"There is if whatever causes your visions is close to Spirit—come on, you see the _future_ for Christ's sake. Shifting a dream isn't that hard—humans call it lucid dreaming or something. There's books that tell how to control what happens in your dreams… for that matter, dream walking like we're doing right now is pretty damned close to astral projection—so why is it so hard to believe you can do something that some stupid human can do if they try hard enough?"

"Maybe because I'm still a little shaken from things!" I snapped, pulling away from him. "Remembering the past and reliving what my... what happened to me. Hearing my aura is freaky... learning you're in love with my brother's girlfriend—pick one."

"Hey! I can't help any of those things—and the situation with Rose happened before I even met you—"

"I know that—I'm just on edge, okay? It's a lot to take in!" I didn't want to talk about my past or about my father, so I latched on to the most obvious thing—the situation with Roza. "I've always been able to overlook all Roza's faults because of one thing—her devotion to my brother. Now that I know she cheated on him—"

"Wait a damned minute!" He cut in indignantly, "I'm the one she cheated on—_with him_!"

"Whatever she started up with you... she was committed to Dimitri first. Maybe no rings were exchanged, but it's not like it was something they could make public—and the way she acted in Russia... it was like she was his wife. I can't explain it really... but everyone saw it... all our friends and neighbors. She was in mourning and—"

"And for all intents and purposes he was _dead_ Viktoria—what was she supposed to do? Spend the rest of her life alone?"

The fact he was taking up for her despite how much she had hurt him did not sit well with me—at all. I scooted further away from him, glaring at him with angry eyes. "Yes! She was! That is what I would do if I were in her shoes—it's what you do when you love someone with all your heart and soul! I wasn't there when her father took her to see Oksa after she'd been with Dimitri as a... what he was... but Oksa told us the things they talked about—how she'd never love anyone else... never _be_ with anyone again. All lies! She came back here and took up with you as if my brother meant _nothing_ to her."

His green eyes were just as angry as mine as he stood up, pacing in front of the bench. "You realize that's a ridiculous argument, right? The whole _'they couldn't be together'_ thing is crap. He could have been asked to be reassigned if he'd wanted to—but he didn't. Instead he wanted to try and prove he was so damned disciplined and controlled. He wanted to play the noble teacher—determined to deny the fact he was lusting after his teenaged student!"

"My brother _is _noble! How dare you—"

"Yeah real fucking noble—sleeping with another man's girlfriend behind his back! I _trusted_ him! I _believed_ him when he said they were through! I sent her off with him to save her life—and he stole away the only thing I ever fucking cared about!"

His statement shocked me; the behavior he described was completely unlike the man I knew Dimitri to be—one who truly believed in honor and the importance of keeping his word, no matter what the personal cost might be. How low had Roza brought him—that he would betray someone who had placed their trust and faith in him? I said nothing—how could I? I could not defend what my brother had done—the very thought of his actions sickened me. It only reaffirmed in my mind that Roza was nowhere good enough for either of them—and that… that was something that I would have to find a way to prove to _both _of them.

"I shouldn't have said that—I'm sorry." The pent up rage in him faded—perhaps because he saw how shaken I was at realizing my brother was no longer the man I'd always believed him to be.

"I need a minute. Please." I stared down at the ground, dazed. I had so many things I needed to process that I wasn't sure where to even begin—the only thing I knew for certain was that I needed to be alone so I could tackle them one by one. I needed to shut down my emotions and let the analytical part of my mind think things through, weighing each problem and studying it from every angle before I decided how I should proceed, and that was something I couldn't do here—with Adrian hovering nearby.

"Angel, I—"

"Adrian... please do not take this the wrong way... but I am trying to _think. _So please leave me alone... just for a few minutes, okay?"

"You're mad. At me."

"No—I'm not. I'm mad at the entire, screwed up situation." I glanced up at him, taking a deep breath. "Since you can obviously change the way things appear in dreams... I have to ask you something, and I would appreciate your honesty. That first dream we shared... was it me you were kissing... or did you make me look like... someone else?"

He looked completely taken aback that I would even suggest such a thing. "I wouldn't do that! It would be... wrong. I may do a lot of shitty things—but I would never stoop that low. I'm not so fucked up that I have to pretend I'm with Rose, Viktoria."

"I'm sorry I just... had to be sure."

"I might have initially walked up to you and kissed you because of her... but once I touched you... that all changed. I actually forgot she was standing there when we kissed... and if you knew how deeply she's always affected me… you'd realize that's saying a hell of a lot."

Talking about him wanting to make Roza jealous made my stomach knot up; afraid that the torrential emotions might overwhelm me again, I did the safest thing, abruptly changing the subject. " I don't understand how I could have thought you were Dimitri… it doesn't make sense. If I can't see Guardian Johnson, then how could I see my brother?"

"Maybe because I need a charmed object to cast the illusion when we're awake." He frowned, running his fingers through his hair, beginning to pace again. "Here I don't need one because it's all illusion. I'm not disguising reality; I'm just changing what appears in the dream."

"Try it again… please? Just to see if it works?" I hated asking him to use his element, but I _needed_ to solve at least _one_ of the puzzles that were eating away at my brain.

"Might not work since you know what to expect." He closed his eyes; there was a rush of tingling warmth again—then his features shifted, becoming more rugged as his face morphed into the one I'd seen in his drawing.

"It worked… Guardian Johnson."

"Now that you've actually seen him… still prefer me to the dhampir?" His tone was light, but underneath his joking manner, there was a hint of anxiousness—as if he thought I might change my mind.

"Of course… but don't let it go to your head. In the first place he looks entirely too much like my brother. Dimitri is very handsome… but he is _not_ my type at all. In the second place... I've never really been attracted to dhampirs, as horrible as that sounds."

"You should try it."

My head jerked up, brow arching in confusion. "Dating dhampirs? What—are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No—I meant changing the way you look. If you can do it… that will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that your gift is tied to Spirit. If you can shift the dream… you'll have to admit that you made that appear, right?" He jerked his head towards the opening. "And if you can alter things… maybe with practice it might help you with your visions. Like… see the things you want to see and stop seeing the things that bother you. Make sense?"

As much as I hated to admit it, it did make sense—in a weird, roundabout sort of way. "How do I do it?"

"Just concentrate on what you want me to see." His appearance shifted, and it was Adrian in front of me again. "Try something simple, like changing the color of your dress."

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on doing what he'd said, but my mind was a jumbled, mixed up mess. I was just about to say as much when he gasped—the sudden intake of breath startling me so much that my eyes jerked open; I was immediately disappointed—my dress looked exactly the same. "It didn't work."

"No… but the hedge is back—that's something, at least."

"Which could have happened all on its own," I pointed out, frustrated. "In fact… I know you don't _think_ you made it appear in the first place… but you were acting a little… different… right before it happened."

"No I wasn't." His eyes darted from the hedge back to me, then over to the withered roses. "Was I?"

"You were. Sort of… vague and… off. I can't explain it, You said Spirit was making it hard to think."

"Yeah but I wouldn't—" he sighed, scowling. "Maybe I did do it. Hell, maybe your aura is completely normal and I'm just crazier than I thought."

"Or you're just overtired. A lot has happened in the last twenty four hours… for both of us," I offered softly. It was strange; I didn't want my aura to be odd or to be able to change things in dreams, and yet now that it looked like he was wrong about those things, I felt an odd sense of loss—just another thing to add to the list of items that troubled me. "Adrian…when we get out of here… I'm going to take a walk. Alone. It doesn't mean I'm angry with you… it's just how I am. So please don't take it the wrong way or make a fuss, okay?"

"I can leave… you don't have to go anywhere." His voice was quiet, full of hurt.

"I _don't_ want you to leave. Even if I was alone in the apartment I'd go for a walk. Being outside… it helps me deal with things. What I _want_ is for you to be there when I get back—so we can talk about everything."

He watched me, not saying anything for a moment, then his lips curved up in a hesitant smile. "You're amazing, you know that, right? You're young… but at times you act so maturely… you just say what you think and don't play bullshit mind games. I like that—a lot."

"I'm not _that_ much younger than you—I turned eighteen a few days ago." I shrugged, returning his smile with one of my own. "And I used to be a lot more immature… before Dimitri was restored. That made me grow up a lot—and realize the things that are important. Now… I just don't see the point in tiptoeing around some things. It only makes for more problems in the end and leads to more misunderstandings—like what we're dealing with right now."

"You're right. I'll try and keep that in mind, but it's going to be hard to change. You'll have to be patient with me and call me on it when I do it since it's almost second nature to me—I was brought up in a politically ambitious family, so I'm used to playing things close to the vest and keeping things under wraps." He glanced over at the hedge, shaking his head and looking skeptical. "You need to try and wake up—I still don't want to leave you here, even for a minute. That… thing… could come back, and I don't know how to explain how to close it since I don't know if I did it or not."

"Honestly… I don't think I _can._ My brain is all fuzzy, and it's hard to concentrate. If I promise to stay away from the hedge… couldn't you just do it? Please?"

"Fine." He sighed, his fingers brushing against my cheek. "But eventually you _need_ to learn to do it on your own. What if something like that," he waved his hand towards the hedge, "happens in one of your visions and I'm not there to help?"

"I promise next time I'll try it on my own, okay? I just don't have the mental capacity right now for lessons." It was the truth; I felt almost numb—there was no way I could focus on his instructions long enough to force myself awake.

He nodded—though he didn't look happy about it. I watched him closely, waiting for him to dim or fade away, but neither happened; it was the same as it had been entering the dream—one moment we were just in the garden and the next I was blinking, disoriented as he gently nudged me awake.

"That… is very disconcerting," I murmured softly, sitting up and shaking my head as I moved off of him.

"Is it? I've never had anyone do it to me… live and learn." He sat up, reaching for the cloves he'd left on the table, frowning down at them. "Damn it—I can't smoke in here can I? They'd smell it."

"You can in the bedroom, just close the door and sit by the window so the smoke goes outside." I slid my feet into my flip flops, feeling prickly and anxious; I needed to go, but at the same time… I didn't want to leave him. "I'll be back… soon. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize—it's all my fault anyway. I should have listened when you said you didn't want to hear it." He seemed tense, which was a complete contradiction to what he was saying, but I forced myself to ignore it, moving towards the door. "Viktoria… be careful wandering around out there, okay? And… hurry back. I'll miss you."

I nodded, shooting him a small smile as I opened the door. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me—I can take care of myself. I'm trained in defense, remember?"

"Yeah, I know… but still." He moved towards me, brushing his lips against my cheek, his expression shifting between one of regret and one I couldn't quite place. "I may not know everything you went through with your father—and you don't have to tell me… not unless you want to… but I caught enough to know that if I ever find out who he is… I'm going to _seriously_ fuck up his mind. He'll be comatose by the time I'm through with him."

The fury in his voice caught me off guard. "It was a long time ago Dusha… it doesn't matter."

"Does it hurt any less just because it happened in the past?" His voice was soft and gentle as his fingers grazed my cheek.

"No," I whispered," it doesn't."

"Then it matters to _me."_

"Thank you… for caring at least a little bit."

"I care more than just a little bit, Angel—that's the problem." He turned away, heading to the bedroom. "I'm broken… and I don't know if I can ever be fixed. You deserve much more than that—you deserve someone better than me."

"You're not the only one that's damaged—we all have scars. I thought mine had healed a long time ago… but I was wrong. The important thing is letting go of the hurt and embracing the things that make you happy… and despite everything that's happened… _you _make me happy, Dusha." I stepped outside, closing the door behind me before he could respond trying to fight off the tremor that raced through me.

I made it out of the building before I started to cry; head down, I kept my eyes on the concrete beneath my feet, hiding behind my hair as I wandered around aimlessly, thinking about everything that had happened and what he had confessed. On top of the pain I felt over the thought of him loving Roza, I felt completely deceived—not just by Adrian and Abe, but by my grandmother too. She claimed to have seen the same things I had seen in my visions, which meant she had to know the intensity of my feelings—so why had she held her tongue and not told me the truth? Instead of being honest and open about what she knew, she'd encouraged me with her cryptic words and promises, making me believe that a fairytale sort of love was going to happen to me. Her prophecies and predictions had me believing that _I_ was the one the handsome price was supposed to fall in love with—but in reality, that wasn't the case at all.

He already loved someone else. _Roza._

In my mind, my grandmother's deception was just another sin that rested solely of my brother's girlfriend's shoulders. My grandmother—the one person I'd thought was fully on my side—had refrained from being honest with me, hiding the truth about what Roza had done. Yeva had protected her, sacrificing my feelings to do so—and that hurt almost as much as knowing who Adrian really loved. Without consciously meaning to, Roza had done the unthinkable—caused a rift between me and members of my family that I didn't think would ever fully mend.

I was full of misery and self-pity as I walked; it was impossible to banish the thought of Adrian and Roza as a couple from my mind. It was far too easy to picture him at her side, full of happiness—free from the weight of the sorrow that she'd caused him, and though I hated to face it, I knew the truth—that if he were given a choice between the two of us, there was no way I would ever win. The more I thought about it the more agitated I grew—and for the first time since I'd arrived at court, I felt the overwhelming urge to fall back into my old habits. I wanted to find a place to drink so I could drown out the thoughts in my head.

Had I been back at school it wouldn't be a problem—I'd have bribed a classmate out of a bottle or even tried to steal some of Guardian Zykov's stash, but here? I had no idea where I might find what I needed or where the bars might be—and while I could have asked Adrian, that was something I refused to do since he'd most assuredly insist on accompanying me. Then there was the problem of cash; I didn't have any on me—and while I was pretty confident I wouldn't have much trouble convincing someone to buy me a few, I had a strong suspicion they'd expect something in return.

My mood didn't improve when a car slowed to a crawl beside me, following me down the street as I tried to pointedly ignore it. I turned abruptly, heading down a side street; a moment later, the sound of brakes squealing alerted me they did the same.

"Hey pretty girl—want a ride?"

I didn't even look up. "No thank you."

"What—you don't trust me? I thought we were old friends now… I'm crushed."

I glanced over, then stopped walking, my irritated scowl immediately fading; it was Pavel, Abe's bodyguard—and I was willing to bet that he'd know _exactly_ where to find what I needed. "Of course we're friends… I didn't realize it was you."

"Where are you headed, looking so grim, little one? I'm surprised you're not holed up somewhere with your secret… friend." He put the car in park, smiling at me as he leaned across the front seat to push the passenger door open.

"I needed some time to myself. To think about… things." I slid into the car, wondering how to broach the subject of what I needed.

"Ah. So you found out about Rose then?" He sighed, studying me intently. "I suppose it was only a matter of time—gossip travels fast here. Did you ask him about it yet?"

"He is the one who told me—he wanted to be honest and upfront about it from the start." My voice was hushed as I stared right back at him, not appreciating his scrutiny.

In other circumstances, the look of shock on his face might have been comical. "Well I'll be damned. Never would have thought he'd have the balls for something like that." His hand reached out, brushing back my hair so he could better see my face. "Did you fight about it? Is that why you have tear stains on your face and look so miserable kid?"

"No… I just needed to think about everything. Put it in perspective." I glanced over at him, shrugging. "But… it's a little shocking, you know? I need… look—can you take me somewhere for a drink?"

"There's bottled water in the back."

"No—I mean a _real _ drink. Vodka. Lots of it. I need to unwind a little."

"Ohhhh no. No way. I'm not contributing to the delinquency of a minor—"

"I'm not a minor! Come on Pavel," I wheedled, giving him a pleading look. "Consider it a late birthday gift—since no one else bothered to give me one."

"This ain't Russia kid—you've gotta be twenty one to drink here. Buying you alcohol could get my ass in a load of trouble."

"You work for Zmey—like you haven't broken the law before?" I shot back, frowning and crossing my arms over my chest."

"Yeah and what I do for him ain't in a public setting—like a bar." He started the car, ignoring my sulk. "Besides, drinking won't solve your problems."

"You think I don't know that? It will help me calm down though—enough so I can deal with them. Besides it's really none of your business—hey… where are we going?" For a moment I thought I'd won the argument—but his answer made it clear that he wouldn't be swayed.

"To the garage. Abe's done with the car for the night so I've gotta park it."

"Let me out then—if you're not going to help me I'll find someone else who will."

"Oh that's real smart—trusting strangers. Around here there's plenty of Moroi who'd be happy to ply you with alcohol—and even happier to slip something in your drink kid."

"I can look out for myself—I'm not stupid!"

"Then stop acting like you are and use your damn head. I ain't stopping—" He reached over, hitting a button on his door; the clicking of the locks engaging was loud in the silence. "And you ain't getting out until we get to the garage."

I slumped down in my seat, hot tears of frustration trailing down my cheeks.

"That's not gonna work on me," he muttered, glancing over at me. "Damn it Viktoria—come on… stop crying."

"Don't you think I would if I could? Do you think I want anyone seeing me like this?" I turned to face the window, silently watching as the larger buildings that made up the center of Court gave way to the residential area; as we drove farther out, , the townhomes and sprawling houses gradually gave way to more industrial structures like the parking garage we turned into. "Did you ever stop to think that I might not want to have to walk all the way back to get back to my suite?"

"Hey—you said you wanted a chance to think, didn't you? Away from everyone?" He slid the car into a numbered parking spot, shutting off the ignition. For a few minutes, the only sound was the soft ticking of the engine as it cooled—then he sighed, reaching over and gently bumping my shoulder with his fist. "Do you know how to hotwire a car? Be honest."

"What?" I frowned, confused by the abrupt question. "Of course not! That isn't exactly the kind of thing they teach us at school!"

"Good. Get out."

I stared at him for a second, then got out, slamming the door so hard the glass shook, mumbling curses under my breath as I stalked off towards the exit. He caught up with me on the sidewalk outside, grabbing the hood of my sweatshirt to tug me to a stop.

"Hey kid—do me a favor, will you?"

I scoffed, indignant that he would dare ask me for anything when he had refused to help me. "Are you kidding? You've got a lot of nerve—"

He used his grip on my sweatshirt to pull me backwards, his large hand moving to cover my mouth, muffling my ranting. "You talk way too much. Now just _listen_ for a sec, will you? I think I forgot to lock up Zmey's car—and my knees are bugging me so I don't wanna walk all the way back to check. You're gonna go back and lock it up for me—seeing as how I'd hate for anyone to steal all that booze he's got stashed in the bar in the back seat. Got it?"

He released me, walking away without another word, leaving me to stare after him in stunned surprise. "Pavel… Thank you."

He didn't turn around, he just called back over his shoulder. "For what? Giving you a ride? You're welcome kid—see you around."

I watched him for a moment before retracing my steps, looking around guiltily as I climbed into the back seat of the car; once inside I just sat there for a few minutes, staring at the small bar, hesitant to act. Though Pavel had given me his consent—sort of—the truth was… I was about to cross a very dangerous line. I would be stealing from Zmey—which would definitely come back to bite me in the rear. Or worse.

Forcing myself to act, I dug around in the center console, hunting for a paper and pen; I was confident there had to be one—a man like Abe Mazur was always doing business, even while on the road. I was right; pulling them out, I Jotted down a quick note—leaving it on the seat where he would be sure to see it. It wasn't much, but I was satisfied that he wouldn't mind me borrowing from him if he knew I intended to replace whatever it was I took. I grabbed two bottles—I'd heard that the vodka in the states was like water compared to what we had back home—then bolted, heading for the one place where I knew I'd be undisturbed.

Perhaps some people would avoid the spot where their nightmares had taken place—but that wasn't my style. I firmly believed that in order to conquer the mind numbing panic I'd felt at the illusion of my father, I had to return to the garden—alone, without anyone to coddle or comfort me. If I didn't… I'd never move past the terror—and the solitude and sense of peace I'd felt from the moment I'd entered the garden would be ruined, lost to me forever. It would give him power over me—stealing away the happiness I'd found—and that was something I refused to let happen. By the time I'd reached the entrance, three fourths of the first bottle was gone; it gave me the liquid courage I needed to enter the hedge and face the things that haunted me.

Mind you… I was more than a little tipsy at that point.

I'm ashamed to admit that I rambled on drunkenly to the poor Queen's statue for a while, before dissolving into tears over the unfairness of the situation I was in. It was a rare occurrence for me to let myself go like that—though I can honestly say that if it had been _anyone_ but Roza… I would have handled it much better. She was the root of every problem I had, in one way or another. Ever since she came into my life… I'd felt like second best. Her beauty, her accomplishments… everything about her trumped the hand I was dealt—and deep down a part of me felt like she was slowly taking my place. I know it sounds childish and foolish—but I cannot help how I feel today or how I felt that night, staring up at the sky above the garden. The way Mama and Dimitri dote on her… that's something they always used to do only to me. Now my brother treats me entirely differently than the way he always did—and that bothers me… a lot. In the past, I was his favorite—and it was something that always filled me with pride. But now? Now I'd always come in second place to Roza—and though that is how it should be, the loss of the special bond I had with my brother hurts me deeply. To find out that she came first in Adrian's heart too… well that was just more than I could bear.

I was halfway through the second bottle and debating very important things—like which was cuter, the faint, almost invisible spattering of freckles across the bridge of Adrian's nose or the birthmark on his neck—when two hands slid under my arms, lifting me to my feet.

"What the—oh God!" I groaned as I glanced behind me, "Not you!"

"Yes me—just be glad it's not your brother."

"Why are you here?" I jerked back, tripping over my flip-flop and stumbling, almost falling over.

He reached out, catching my arm, steadying me before I hit the ground. "Because Adrian was worried—and he promised to give you space. So he called me."

"How did you even find me?"

"The phone I gave you has GPS. It homed in on you like a tracking beacon, kid." Abe smirked, increasing my dark mood by leaps and bounds.

A thought sprang to life in my head as my eyes darted around behind him; at the time, it seemed like an extremely good idea—but then again… I was rather drunk. It was spawned not just from my irritation at his presence, but also because he'd kept the truth from me about his daughter's ties to Adrian. "Where are your guardians?"

"I'm safe enough within the wards, don't you thi—"

Without warning I launched myself at him, my fist aiming for his smirking mouth; it was a good, solid punch—at least… it _would_ have been, if I'd been more steady on my feet. As it was, I lost my balance as he sidestepped me, sprawling face first in the grass.

"I probably deserved that." He eyed me for a moment before reached down to help me up.

"No—you deserved my fist actually connecting with your face." I huffed, ignoring his hand and getting to my feet on my own accord—albeit slowly and a little unsteady on my feet. "You should have told me about Adrian and Roza."

"I told you it wasn't my place to discuss the situation on the way to his room."

"She's you're daughter!"

"And they are both adults—who are more than capable of speaking for themselves." He laced his hands behind his back, watching me warily as I glared at him. "Would it have really made a difference Viktoria? If I'd told you everything would you have returned to your room last night and not gone looking for him?"

"Yes! No… I don't know, alright? But someone should have told me!"

"Well you found out… so obviously someone did exactly that—unless you're even better at planting bugs than I am."

I said nothing, opening the vodka and taking another long pull; he eyed the bottle, shaking his head and frowning. "Yes it is yours—I will pay you back. With interest. I will replace it with something much, much better once I get home to Russia."

"I don't care about the booze kid—I care about you using it to hide from things you don't want to face."

His response confused me. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care? I'm nothing to you… just Dimitri's little sister. What does it matter what I do?"

"In case it's escaped your notice Viktoria—you're practically family. It's only natural that I play surrogate father while you're here."

I scoffed. "Fathers… do _not_ care. I know _that_ from experience."

"Just because your father wasn't there doesn't mean he doesn't care. Sometimes the best way to protect people is by staying out of their lives." His eyes were dark and intense, full of conviction over what he said, but I wasn't buying into the pretty lies.

"You don't know what you are talking about," I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. "My father _hated_ us."

"What makes you say that? A few missed birthdays? Him not being available when you wanted to see him?"

I turned my back to him, lifting up my sweatshirt so he could see the faint scars that were visible on my skin. "Is that what a _loving_ father does, Zmey? Beat a five year old child for getting up to use the restroom without asking permission?"

His breath hissed out; I dropped my shirt down, turning back around to face him. "Don't speak to me about my father caring—he didn't. He never supported us or even feigned an interest in our lives."

His smile had faded completely, replaced with the dangerous look he'd worn when confronting the Moroi woman who had insulted us on the dance floor. "Who is he?"

"It doesn't matter—not anymore."

"The hell it doesn't! Any man who raises a hand against his daughter needs to be taught what respect is—and it's a lesson that is never too late in coming!"

"He treated Mama far worse—and Dimitri too. My sisters…they were spared his anger—probably because they resemble him more than we do. Dimitri and I look more like Mama." I shrugged dismissively, trying to ignore the ache in my chest at the thought. "Dimitri took care of it when he was big enough and my father never touched us again."

"I'm aware Dimitri beat him—Rose told me the story." His hands shot out, grabbing my arms roughly, I made a sound of protest, but he didn't release his hold. "I want his name Viktoria—right now. He's a violent man with a grudge against your brother—and he could hurt _my_ daughter to get back at him."

I hesitated, not wanting to air our dirty laundry to him—but the truth was that if he wanted to find out… he had other means of doing so. "Leonid," I muttered, struggling to get free. For a Moroi, he was incredibly strong. "Leonid Ze—"

"Zeklos." He cursed under his breath, releasing me. "I know him. Far too well. That means…"

"That Ivan Zeklos wasn't just Dimitri's charge," I finished for him. "He was our half-brother." I crossed myself respectfully in his memory. "I never got to meet him—but Dimitri said he wanted to get to know all of us… he was killed before it could happen."

"No wonder he refuses to talk about it… that it hit him so strongly." Abe's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "How much do you know about that night?"

"Not a lot. I have never asked much… it hurts Dimitri to talk about it. All I know is that the night Ivan was attacked, he gave Mitya the night off."

"Then… I take it the two of you never heard the rumors?" He reached over, taking the bottle from my hand, retreating to the bench before he took a deep drink.

Even in my slightly inebriated state, I could tell he was hiding something; his closed off expression and excessively casual tone betrayed him without him even realizing it. The question was… how exactly could I find out what it was—and did I really want to know? I moved over to sit beside him, reclaiming the bottle. "What rumors? About Ivan?"

"You're a bright young woman Viktoria—most of the time, anyway. Didn't it ever strike you as odd that the attack happened on the one night Dimitri wasn't with his charge?"

"What do you mean?"

"For the most part, Strigoi are cocky, over confident creatures. They're positive they can take on any guardian… no matter who it might be—and they take great pleasure in taking down the guardians with the best reputations. So I'll ask you again… why _that_ night?"

I shrugged, not following his line of thought. "Who knows? Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I was under the impression that Dimitri is an extremely focused guardian; I know that sometimes Christian gets irritated and complains that he's almost _too_ attentive. Did Ivan often give your brother the night off like that?"

"No… from what I remember, he usually only insisted that Dimitri take time off if he planned on…" my voice trailed off as I realized what he was getting at, "meeting up with our father." I glanced over at Abe, wide eyed. "He didn't want to expose Dimitri to him, knowing the history between them."

"Yes… a man that knew first hand that Dimitri could beat him." His voice was soft and gentle, trying to guide me along. "He vanished, you know… no one has seen him since the night Ivan died. Before that… he owed several people a great deal of money. He tried to borrow from me to pay it back a few days before he disappeared. I turned him down flat."

I rolled my eyes, making a dismissive sound. "That's the big secret? That he was broke?"

"No—he got the money. The rumor was that he drained Ivan's trust fund to do it."

"So you think Ivan found out and confronted him… and what? Our father arranged the attack? I wouldn't put it past him to sacrifice his child—but I'm fairly sure that he'd be worried about his own ass and be afraid the Strigoi would turn on him too."

"Unless… he was the Strigoi."

The bottle slipped out of my hands, the remains of the vodka seeping into the ground at our feet, neither of us moving to grab it. "But Ivan had a guardian with him… he wouldn't have—"

"Use your brain kid—his guardian probably wouldn't have been sitting in on a father and son dispute. Leonid probably drained Ivan in a fit of rage—or to cover his own underhanded actions—becoming a Strigoi in the process. Then killed the guardian—who wouldn't be expecting a Strigoi to exit the room. And the attack would cover for his disappearance too—people would think the Strigoi had carted off the Royal Moroi for a midnight snack."

It made sense—in a twisted, disgusting way. "And he would know the guilt would eat away at Dimitri… so he would finally get his revenge for the shame he felt that day when Dimitri almost killed him."

"Since you brought up revenge… take it a step further. Your father, for all intents and purposes… always had delusions of grandeur. He thought he as above reproach and that everyone was beneath him. If he turned Strigoi… he'd want to take over… to make himself a king."

I was having trouble following him, the vodka clouding my mind. "I know you're eventually going to get to the point, but I wish you would hurry. I don't have patience for games tonight."

"Obviously no patience for politeness either. Fine. Let me put it another way. We've established that your father was hotheaded and had a grudge against your brother. Now ask yourself this… the night Saint Vladimir's was attacked… why was Dimitri Belikov the only guardian that was turned? They didn't turn any of the other staff or any of the students—just one single man out of everyone on campus. Why—and why did they pick _that _ Academy?"

My stomach rolled as I processed what he was inferring. "You think our father… planned it that way? That he was in on the attack?"

"I'd bet my life on it… and look at what happened when Dimitri was a Strigoi. He was trying to conquer the world—I bet once he did, your father would have stepped forward and tried to kill him, claiming it all for himself."

It was all speculation—but there was a buzzing in my mind that indicated it held a ring of truth. Maybe not all the details were right—but enough of them were, making my sixth sense prickle and dance along my skin. I'd always known my father was an evil man—he had to be to do the things he had done to our family. But this… this was so far beyond my ability to grasp that I could barely process it; a man that would kill one son, then order the death of another—ripping his very soul away from him and condemning him to hell in the process.

A rush of nausea hit me; I doubled over, acid burning its way up my throat as I threw up all the vodka I'd consumed—right on Zmey's expensive shoes. He didn't get angry—instead he just held my hair, stroking my back gently as I retched, but his soothing words didn't calm me or relieve me of the sick feeling that was eating away at my insides—because I'd realized something that chilled me, right down to my soul.

For better or for worst… Leonid was my father—so one half of my DNA. had come from his polluted genes. His evil lurked inside me, the same way that the genes I'd inherited from my grandmother had infused me with the sight; I couldn't help but wonder if the gift she had passed down to me had amplified the evil somehow, creating the disturbing malevolence that had haunted the dream I'd shared with Adrian.

If it had… what did that mean—and what might I become if it was festering inside of me, slowly growing in strength the more the Sight grew?

* * *

**_A/N #2: _**_Vika's flashback to the incident with her father will be discussed in more detail in a drabble I am going to be adding to the collection within the next ten minutes or so—if you want to know more about what happened, make sure to check it out. ;o)_

_Sorry it took so long to get this up—life gets in the way of updating. Sadly, this has been written for several weeks, I just haven't had time to transfer my handwritten notes into the pc. I'll try not to take quite so long with the next one! _


	12. Chapter 12—Veracity

Dear Diary,

_As if the embarrassment of my throwing up wasn't enough, Abe called Pavel to bring him a clean pair of shoes—and to carry me home. Even though I was horrified by what we'd been discussing, I guess the alcohol I'd consumed had influenced me far more than I'd thought—because for some unknown reason… I found the sight of Zmey's bare feet absolutely hilarious. As I stared at them, trying not to giggle, I thought about my grandmother's revelation about the former queen—Tatiana was probably having a fit that someone else had the complete audacity to remove their shoes in her garden. But the thing that really set me off was the sight of the thick gold bands he had around two of his long, narrow toes—once I noticed them… it was like they mesmerized me; I couldn't look away, no matter how hard I tried. And then…when he wiggled his toes in the grass… I lost it completely, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face and my sides were aching. He stared at me, completely baffled at what it was I found so amusing—but of course, I couldn't tell him. _

I like to think that had it not been for my giggles, I would have put up more of a fight when Pavel appeared and scooped me up in is arms—but as it was I just hung on to his neck, trying to stop laughing.

"At least she's a happy drunk," the dhampir muttered, gazing down at me with an amused smile.

"Not at first she wasn't… she's gone through the spectrum—weepy, pissy… and now hysterical, it seems." Abe slid his feet in the sandals Pavel had brought, looking at his soiled shoes with distaste as he shoved them in the plastic bag his employee had thought to bring.

"What's so funny kid?" Pavel whispered, his lips right next to my ear.

"His toes… they're so boney and hairy… and the rings." I wheezed, glancing back down at Abe's feet.

"I'll thank you to keep your opinions about my feet to yourself Viktoria—you make me sound like a hobbit." Abe gave me a dark look, moving to exit the garden—but his reprimand didn't quell my mirth.

It's hard to describe what it feels like being that intoxicated; maybe it happened because I drank so much so fast—or perhaps it was because of the emotional strain I was under; whatever the reason… I was well and truly gone. As strange as it sounds, as we walked across court, I kept losing track of time; one minute we were in the garden and I was laughing, then the next thing I knew Pavel was holding me over a trashcan as I emptied my stomach yet again. I only vaguely recall the briefest snatches of other things—like the elevator ride; I sang along with the music until Abe told me to shut the hell up—which immediately made me burst into silly, girlish tears. But the one thing I remember that is crystal clear in my mind is the way _Adrian_ took care of me that night. From the moment he took me out Pavel's arms—so carefully, like I was a priceless jewel—my well-being was his primary concern… maybe because he knew what it felt like to be that drunk firsthand.

He laid me out on the bed and got a cool cloth, wiping my face gently before placing it across my forehead; all the while I huffed and grumbled, batting his hands away. I am ashamed to admit it, but I didn't appreciate his kindness at the time—instead of being thankful that he was trying to take care of me, I acted like a first class bitch, demanding he leave me alone and go bother his precious Roza. Thankfully, he ignored my childish fit of temper; instead of leaving, he pressed a soft kiss on my forehead, then put a glass of water on the nightstand before grabbing a pillow and retreating to the floor—right next to my side of the bed.

That's where he was when I woke up—curled up in a ball and shivering. Gazing down at him, I tried to ignore the way my heart swelled to bursting, refusing to acknowledge or name the overwhelming rush of feelings that made it hard for me to breathe. I couldn't be in love with him, no matter what my heart thought—it was foolish and illogical and I knew that I'd get hurt; how could it end any other way when I knew who it was that completely owned his heart? Still, my hand slid down, brushing his hair out of his face; he was so beautiful—my dream man come to life—but I knew far too well that dreams were tricksy, funny things that couldn't always be believed.

As quietly as possible, I pulled the thick duvet off of the bed, draping it across his body. Bending to brush my lips across his forehead, I crept out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, hoping I'd feel a little more alive once I showered and brushed my teeth. My head was throbbing and I felt more than a little nauseous from my hangover—but it was nowhere near as bad as what I was used to feeling in the wake of an extremely strong vision. Still, the heat from the water and the steam that filled the bathroom made me more than a little dizzy; I had to lean against the tiles, waiting for my stomach to stop churning and the queasiness to pass.

I was dry heaving when the glass door to the shower opened behind me —feeling too sick to even turn my head, since movement made the nausea feel a million times worse. He stepped in, laying a cool hand against my wet shoulder; I felt a tingling warning dance along my spine, but before I could protest, his power flowed through me—washing away the effects of my hangover as effectively as the water that rinsed away the soapy lather on my skin.

"Thank you," I glanced over my shoulder at him, trying not to frown. "You shouldn't waste it… not on me."

"It's not a waste—I don't like seeing you suffer. Besides… I have to use it."

" No—you don't. Not if it makes you act…" I paused, searching for a way to phrase it that wouldn't sound offensive—but he knew what I meant, supplying the words for me.

"Nuttier than a fruitcake? Yeah… sorry to break it to you Angel… but Spirit is a double edged sword. If I use it too much… it affects me—but if I _don't_ use it… it builds up and has the exact same effect." He grabbed my shampoo bottle off the ledge and started lathering up my hair while he talked, his long fingers gently massaging my scalp—probably hoping to distract me. "It's better I use it in small doses for things like this than to totally flip out while we're at Saint Vlad's—that would blow my cover. I'm going in as a dhampir, remember—not a half insane Moroi."

The motion of his fingers moving through my hair was almost as soothing as his magic; I closed my eyes, leaning back against him, completely relaxed by his touch. "Why bother? It's not like you have to hide from my brother there—better to save the ring for when we come back… so you don't have to recharge it as soon, yes?"

"Want to bet? They know me there, Vika—I lived on campus for almost six months. If I show up at the Academy with _you_, your brother will get a phone call in no time flat."

I contemplated what he said, more than a little confused. "What do you mean you lived there? Is that where you went to school? Did you get kicked out or something?"

He didn't answer right away; instead he reached up and detached the shower nozzle, using it to rinse out my hair.

"Adrian? Did you—"

"No. I stayed there because of Rose." His voice was soft, with an underlying edge of tension—as if he were worried at how I might react. "I wanted to be close to her… to spend as much time as I could with her. I thought if I did… I could win her over… make her fall in love with me."

"I see." I tried to keep my tone even—to hide the pang of jealousy that sliced through me—but he caught it immediately.

"No—you don't. You have no idea what it's like to be an addict, Angel. To get so caught up in something—or someone—that no matter what happens… no matter what they do… you keep coming back for more. I think I'm just now beginning to realize that's what it is—to actually see things without blinders on. My initial attraction to her was real… and so were my feelings—but it all got twisted around along the way. This lingering… _need_ for her… it's not real. Or healthy. In fact… it's pretty fucking sick." He reached around me, replacing the showerhead, carefully avoiding my gaze.

The pain that laced his words tugged at my heart, overriding the ache that appeared in my stomach as soon as he mentioned _her_. I turned, wrapping my arms around him—holding him close and trying to convey that I understood what he was saying. He sighed, burying his face in my neck, his lips pressing gently against my skin.

"I'm sorry Angel. I'm such a damned, messed up fool."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." It came out a whisper, barely heard over the sound of the water that trickled down around us. "And you are not a fool Dusha… you're just heart sick… and confused."

His hands slid around my waist, his wet chest pressing against mine as he moved; my nipples tightened from the sensation—pulling a low groan from deep within him as his body immediately reacted. I nuzzled the side of his head, sliding my hand down to stroke him—but he grabbed my wrist, stilling my movement as he pulled back, increasing the distance between us. "No—I didn't come in here for that."

I blushed, confused and more than a little hurt by his rebuff; despite the fact I had two sisters, I suppose I was quite naïve. I'd automatically assumed he wanted sex since his arousal was obvious—and it was certainly front and center in _my_ mind, to say the least. "Don't you want me?"

"I do—but not until we clear the air about everything. It's not fair—to you or to me. Until we work things out we need to take it slow." He sighed, pursing his lips into a tight, thin line—as frustrated, perhaps, as I was. "I just wanted to comfort you… to make you feel better. That's all. I never had that with her—I never felt like she needed me, except for once or twice… and even then it wasn't what I'd hoped for. I don't know how to explain it really. Even when your brother was… gone… it was like she was forcing herself or something. She pretended to need me… but she didn't—there was only one person she ever really needed…and it wasn't me. Maybe she could never really let her walls down and let me in because no matter how hard she tried… the memory of him—of what they had—was always there between us."

I considered what he said for a moment, studying the tiles beneath our feet; he took my silence the wrong way, automatically assuming that his words had angered me. "Look I'm probably fucking this all up—I've never tried to be noble before. As much as I hate to admit it, if you were anyone else I'd probably be fucking you up against the wall right now… but you're different, Angel. I want to do the right thing because it's not just about the sex. Believe me… it's killing me to wait. I—"

I laid my fingers against his lips, silencing his rambling—my lips curving up in a soft smile. "Dusha—it's alright. Really. You're right—we should take it slow… and I happen to think you're worth waiting for."

Pressing my lips against his cheek, I opened the steamed coated door, feeling absolutely giddy at everything he'd said. Maybe it was foolish of me, but for just a moment, I shut down the logical part of my mind and allowed myself to just _feel—_and the euphoria that was seeping up in me was even more intoxicating than all the vodka in the world. "I'm going to make breakfast while you finish up your shower—"

"No—don't." He grabbed the soap and began lathering up, shooting me a crooked grin. "Trust me, after your little bender last night you need lots of greasy food—we'll have breakfast in the café."

"But I feel fine—you already healed me," I pointed out—arching a brow as I pulled on my robe, wondering what he meant. "Besides… I like cooking for you. The expression on your face is absolutely priceless when you take that first bite."

"You're forgetting two things, Angel. Number one—we don't know how well my healing will affect you—and number two, we've got a flight this morning. Do you really want to get air sick?"

"You healed me yesterday and it took just fine," I argued—but the thought of getting sick during the flight wasn't a pleasant one. "And I've never thrown up on a flight before."

"Have you flown hung over before? Cause I have—and I can tell you… it isn't fun." He eyed my shampoo suspiciously before shrugging and applying it to his hair. "What the hell were you drinking, anyway?"

"American vodka." I shuddered, fighting the urge to gag. "I do not know how anyone can stomach it."

He chuckled, closing his eyes and tilting his head back under the showers spray. "I thought you Russian's were born with vodka running through your veins."

"Russian vodka is an entirely different thing," I huffed as I wrapped my hair up in a towel, glaring at his amusement. "I am not sure why it hit me so strongly… but I think I will never touch that swill again." I tossed him a towel as he turned off the water, trying not to let my eyes run over the way the droplets slid along his skin. "Hurry up, Lord Ivashkov—I am feeling exceptionally hungry… and the longer you stand there looking so delicious, the harder it is for me not to give in to my appetite."

His laughter followed me out of the bathroom; I smiled, feeling more than a little smug. It hadn't taken much for me to turn his mood around, banishing all thoughts of my brothers girlfriend from his mind; it made me think that perhaps our self-imposed 'fast' wouldn't be for nearly as long as I'd imagined—which was a good thing, since I didn't know how long I would be able to keep my hands to myself.

We walked to the café closest to my building, trying to maintain a respectable distance between us; both of us were aware that it wouldn't do for my brother to hear rumor that his little sister had been walking around Court holding hands with 'Guardian Johnson'. Still, our bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other; every few minutes our arms or hands would brush—making us move further apart to increase the space between us. Our conversation was light and easy, filled with flirtatious banter—pitched low enough that none of the people that passed could hear; our talk in the shower may have been brief, but it had cleared the air between us—the apprehensive tension that had beenlingering since I'd learned the truth was completely gone. Now he knew I wouldn't fly into a rage if he mentioned her—and me? I was feeling more confident and positive about everything. Even more importantly, the jealousy I'd been feeling towards Roza seemed completely gone—which was rather ironic, considering what happened while we waited to be seated.

The entrance to the café was a little crowded—which made sense considering it was breakfast time. As luck would have it, one of the people waiting to be seated was Guardian Anosov—the dhampir I'd met a few days before, outside the Council chambers. As soon as he spotted me, he made his way over, bowing deeply and kissing my hand—the same way he'd done when we met. I didn't think anything of it—at first—I just smiled politely and said good morning in Russian.

"I was hoping I would see you again—without your keeper," he teased, giving my hand a squeeze.

"I am sorry she was so rude—I honestly don't know what got into her." He'd spoken to me in our native tongue, so I answered in the same without thinking.

"I understand, believe me. She is looking out for your honor—it is something grandmothers do. They cannot seem to understand that times have changed and things aren't as… complicated as they used to be." He moved closer, still hanging on to my hand—though I tried to reclaim it. "Have you had time to go sightseeing yet? I have the afternoon off—I could take you."

"Viktoria—aren't you going to introduce me to your… friend?" Adrian moved closer to my side, his voice flat, green eyes locked on Anosov's hand.

I glanced over at him, surprised by his tone—my eyes widening at the angry scowl on his handsome face. "Guardian Johnson… this is Guardian Anosov. We met a few days ago—briefly."

"Johnson? You must be new here—I don't remember seeing you before." The dhampir barely glanced at him before returning his eyes to me—his free hand moving to my shoulder as he attempted to steer me away from the man beside me. "We could pack a picnic lunch—I know just the place I'd like to show you."

"I just bet you do." Adrian's hand shot out, knocking the guardian's hand away. "Look Anatole—"

"Anosov—Felix Anosov." Felix gave him a dark look, his eyes darting between us. "If you will excuse us Johnson—I would like to chat with Miss Belikova about our homeland. I am sure you would be quite bored with the discussion, so perhaps you should run along."

"I'm not going anywhere buddy—in case you didn't notice, she happens to be here with me." Despite the fact the guardian had several inches—and quite a bit more muscle—on him, Adrian forced himself between us, infringing on the other man's space. "So how about you take your picnic basket and shove it straight up your—"

"Good morning kotyonok—and to you as well Guardian Johnson. I was hoping I would find you both here."

Relief flooded me at the sound of my brothers deep, rumbly voice; I turned to him, not trying to disguise the panic I was feeling—while I found Adrian's sudden possessiveness extremely attractive, he seemed to have forgotten that despite his disguise , he wasn't really a dhampir. If it came to a fight—and it certainly seemed to be headed that way—he would end up getting seriously hurt. "Dimitri! Good morning… did you come to join us for breakfast?"

"I did—though now I am wondering if perhaps I will have to referee first. Gentlemen… such behavior in front of a young lady? You should be ashamed—my sister will think the Guardians here at Court are heathens." Dimitri clasped his hand on Adrian's shoulder—a gesture that appeared to be a friendly one, but he used his grip to pull him back, out of Felix's face. "Guardian Anosov, you are running late this morning? I seem to recall seeing your name on the roster for the seven o'clock patrol."

"I am—I was waiting on my order when I ran into your lovely sister. I extended an invitation to show her the sights but Johnson took offense." Anosov answered in Russian—and though I tried not to, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. His motivation was extremely transparent—if he thought my brother would side with him just because he was from our homeland, the man didn't know Dimitri very well at all.

"Ah—well you see, while Viktoria is visiting she has decided to work for Rose's father. Mr. Mazur assigned Guardian Johnson to keep her safe, so surely no offense was meant—he is just doing his job." Dimitri gave the man a friendly smile, sliding his arm around my shoulder. "Actually, you should probably thank him—had you taken my sister anywhere without my permission… I would not have been pleased. I am sure you understand, yes?"

Anosov took a step back, holding up his hands. "Of course—I am sorry. I was unaware your family was quite that old fashioned. I meant no disrespect to you, Dimitri."

"Where my baby sister is concerned… old fashioned does not begin to cover it. I have recently learned of a Moroi boy back home who tried to take advantage of my kotyonok… I plan to visit to Baia in the very near future to have a… _talk _with him." All vestiges of the friendly, easy going charm he'd displayed vanished from my brother's face; his jaw was tense, his expression cold and angry. "In the future… you will stay away from my sister, yes? You see… your reputation precedes you. There is much talk of how you like to spend time with young dhampir girls since there is… how was it they put it? Ah yes—no chance of knocking them up."

"That was not my intent at all, I assure you—"

"You had best hurry, Anosov—as I said before, you are running quite late." Dimitri's grip on my shoulders tightened as he moved me further away from the Guardian—who turned away, red faced, hurrying out of the restaurant.

"He did know about our family—Grandmother chased him off the other day," I murmured, watching the man scurry off like a frightened rabbit. "Thank you Dimitri…I wasn't sure how to—"

"Break up a fight that you stirred up with your feminine wiles?" He arched a dark brow, trying not to smile as he teased me. "Come now, Vika. I know how you women think. What was it, you wanted to see if you could get a rise out of Johnson? Speaking of which… where did he go?"

I glanced around, frowning; I'd been so wrapped up in watching my brother handle Felix that I hadn't realized Adrian had completely disappeared. "I don't know—he couldn't have gone far… he wouldn't just leave me—"

Dimitri's hand slid to the small of my back as the hostess called out my name, gently propelling me forward. "Maybe he is in the men's room—don't worry, he'll find us. I've been told I am rather hard to miss."

"Speaking of which… how did you know we were here?" I slid into the booth, smiling a thank you as the woman handed me a menu, nodding when she said our waitress would be with us soon.

"I didn't—I saw you through the window on my way to the donut shop. I was planning on surprising Rose with breakfast… but you looked rather frantic." He eyed the menu, letting out a wistful sigh. "I know Mama is on vacation… but do you think she would make me breakfast once or twice before she leaves? I am so very tired of the food here."

"Roza doesn't cook you breakfast?" I gave him a wide eyed look. "Oh Lord—don't tell Mama… she will have a fit!"

"No… she _wants_ to make me breakfast—_that_ is the problem. You see, kotyonok... he leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper, "I love Roza… but she is quite possibly the worst cook on the planet."

I stared at him for a moment, thinking he was teasing. "No… but cooking is easy! Maybe she just needs a lesson or two, yes? I can teach her a few things—if you want."

"Christian has tried to teach her—and he agrees with me. The woman should not be allowed anywhere near a kitchen." He took my hand, widening his own eyes dramatically. "She blew up his microwave trying to boil water."

"What? Dimitri! You are lying! How could she even—"

"She put the water in the pot… the way you would to boil it on the stove…" his lips twitched, brown eyes sparkling with amusement, "then put the pot in the microwave and turned it on high for five minutes. If you do not believe me, ask Christian—but whatever you do… do not mention his stove. He is still furious about her setting it on fire."

I sat back, giggling. "I think you are making all this up Dimitri Belikov!"

"Making what up?"

I glanced up at the sound of Adrian's voice, smiling as he slid in beside me, trying to ignore the way my brother's eyes narrowed with displeasure—mentally praying that Dimitri wouldn't notice the scent of smoke on his clothes. "Dimitri is telling me that his girlfriend cannot cook."

"She can't—she almost set Lissa's kitchen on fire making cookies." Adrian reached over, grabbing my menu—oblivious to his slip.

I glanced over at my brother, fighting back the urge to wince at the confused expression on his face. Biting my lip, I tried to change the subject. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me, the way you disappeared."

"No I had to get some air and calm down—I didn't like the way that asshole was treating you." He flashed me a smile—aware that I could tell exactly where he'd been. "I never thought I'd be glad to see you Belikov… but I appreciate your stepping in. I let my anger get the better of me."

Had my brother not been sitting across the table, I would have buried my face in my hands—but then, if Dimitri hadn't been there, Adrian's comment wouldn't have mattered at all; it was enough to make me wonder if he was _trying_ to get caught. "Oh come now, my brother might be big and scary looking, but there is no reason for you to avoid him."

"Huh?" Adrian looked up from the menu with a confused expression on his face, then his eyes flicked over to my brother—who was studying him intently.

"Tell me Guardian Johnson… how is it you know about what Rose did to the Queen's kitchen?" Dimitri leaned back, crossing his arms across his broad chest; the gesture made the muscles in his arms stand out prominently since he wasn't wearing his uniform or his coat—just a plain black t-shirt and jeans. The fact he used Lissa's title instead of her name wasn't lost on me—I just hoped Adrian would understand the significance and not deepen the hole he'd dug himself.

"What? Oh… uh… Abe told me—he thought it was hilarious. Apparently your girlfriend's mom can't cook either—must be an inherited thing. You should ask him about Janine trying to make pancakes the next time you see him—it's hilarious."

I had no idea if what he said was true—he did seem to be rather close to Abe, so it was entirely possible that in a moment of good natured banter, Roza's father had shared the story; more importantly, my brother couldn't seem to outright disprove it. Still, Dimitri's suspicious look did not fade—in fact, his jaw twitched, which was never a good sign. I sank down lower in my seat, sending up a silent prayer that Adrian would make it out of the café in one piece.

"I see… and Mr. Mazur has no problem with your using his first name—or the Queen's?"

"Not at all. Abe knew my parents—you could say I'm practically one of the family. You're right though—I shouldn't have referred to the Queen like that. Guess hearing everyone call her by her nickname has rubbed off on me—I did it without thinking. Sorry about that—it won't happen again."

Adrian's smile was contrite and full of apology—but Dimitri still wasn't through with him. I reached for my water glass, hoping neither man would notice the way my hand was trembling.

"If I may ask one more question… why is it you would not want to see me? Did I do something to offend you at lunch?"

"Seriously? Come on man—you were giving me the eye right up until you left. I completely get being protective of your kid sister—but not every guy she meets is out to steal her virtue."

I choked on the large swallow of water I had taken, spilling half of the glass down my chin. The statement was a loaded one, all things considered—he hadn't stolen my virtue, but he'd certainly taken it.

"You will have to forgive me—I suppose I am a bit too overprotective at times." Dimitri handed me a napkin, his stern expression fading. He looked almost contrite as he held his hand out to the man beside me. "We should start over from the beginning, yes? This time I promise I will try not to make assumptions."

"Sure thing—It'd certainly make working with Viktoria easier if I didn't have to worry about you dismembering me the whole time." Adrian shook my brother's hand, his lips curving up in a mischievous grin. "Besides—I think you actually might like me once you get to know me. After all… she tells me you have a thing for westerns— and I happen to know a thing or two about the genre."

I tried to keep my expression blank as I kicked him under the table; as much as I wanted him to win my brother over, he was treading on thin ice. He might be able to bluff his way through a discussion about Abe, but Dimitri's expertise when it came to the old west was way out of Adrian's league.

"Really? Do you have a favorite author? You should come by the apartment and look over my collection, I have some very rare books that are out of print. I just picked up a copy of—" His phone beeped loudly, interrupting him mid-sentence; he pulled it out of his pocket, the animated expression on his face giving way to a look of absolute dismay at whatever the message was he'd received.

"Mitya? Is everything alright?" I laid my hand on his arm, concerned by his demeanor.

"I am afraid you will have to excuse me—I need to get back with food before Rose attempts to make us omelets." He sighed, slipping the phone back into his pocket as he scooted out of the booth. "I regret the day she stumbled across the food network channel—the programs they air always inspires her to try new things."

"You better run—or else stop off for some antacids on your way home."

Dimitri chuckled at Adrian's quip, clasping him on the shoulder as he moved towards the door. "I will take that under advice—keep my sister out of trouble today, Johnson. I am counting on you to keep an eye on her for me."

"My pleasure big guy." Adrian waited until Dimitri's tall form disappeared out the door before turning to give me a look. "Why in the hell did you kick me?"

"I happen to know a thing or two about the genre," I imitated what he'd said, rolling my eyes with exasperation. "In case you were unaware, my brother is _very_ serious about his westerns."

"Yeah I kind of got that impression, Vika. So what?"

"So what are you going to do when he wants to discuss novels with you? Or asks about what western movies you've seen?" I gave him a frustrated look, but held my tongue for a moment; the waitress was approaching our table and I didn't want her to overhear our quarrel.

My silence continued even after she took our orders and moved on; I didn't know how exactly to explain the kind of mistake he'd made. Dimitri would likely quiz him about the subject—not out of any sense of malice or mean spiritedness—just because he was enthusiastic when it came to his favorite things. "If he thinks you like the same things he does… he's going to want to talk about them. I don't want you to be embarrassed or caught in a fib."

"You do realize you don't know everything about me yet, right? Like… you don't know that I spent most of my free time as a child with my aunt—who happened to have a thing for watching old movies and TV shows. They were one of her guilty pleasures—the kind of thing she hid from everybody because she thought that watching television wasn't a queenly past time." He slid his arm along the back of the booth, his fingers brushing my shoulder; chills danced along my spine—making it hard to focus on what he was saying. "I've probably seen more episodes of Gunsmoke than your brother—and since Aunt Tati had a thing for John Wayne, I've got that covered too."

"I just want the two of you to get along—that's all." I frowned, tracing my fingers along the condensation that was beading up on the outside of my glass. I loved my brother—more than anything—but Adrian was rapidly earning an important place in my heart too. Knowing that there was animosity between them made my chest feel tight and achy—I couldn't be completely happy until things were good between them.

"I know Angel—your Grandmother warned me that I needed to make peace with Dimitri if I wanted to be a part of your life."

I glanced up at him, confused. "When did she say that?"

"Last night—when she was teaching me how to play Canasta."

"What! Are you serious? When—"

"She showed up about five minutes after you left. Said she was there to keep me out of trouble." He grinned, tugging at my ponytail. "You should have warned me she was a card shark—I owe her a hundred bucks."

"What else did she say," I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"That I needed to learn Russian," He chuckled, squeezing my shoulder before his arm slid away.

"Well that is true," I agreed. "It would certainly impress Mama and Dimitri. But it's a very difficult language to learn—I think you might have better things to do with your time."

"There's only one Belikov I'm worried about impressing—or rather, one Belikova." He grinned, glancing around us, then gave me a quick kiss. "And right at this moment… there's nothing I'd rather do than impress her—so when we get back from out little trip, you better be prepared to teach me."

"What time are we supposed to leave anyway? I still have to pack and help Grandmother get her things together."

"I don't know—give me your phone and I'll call Abe and ask."

I handed it to him, bumping him with my shoulder. "While you do that I'm going to the ladies room. Try not to get in any fights while I am gone please—I don't want you messing up that handsome profile."

He agreed—but still I hurried, not wanting to leave him on his own for too long. Our food arrived in my absence, but Adrian hadn't started eating; instead he was just… sitting there, with a confused look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced up, scooting further into the booth so I could sit down. "Want to tell me why Abe just informed me that you have some sort of foot fetish?"

"I do not! I was drunk and his bare feet were funny looking—they made me laugh, that's all!" I pricked at the thought that Abe would suggest I was attracted to anything about him.

"And you saw his bare feet because…?" He gave me a questioning look as he pulled his plate closer, dousing the waffles with syrup.

"I might have… thrown up on his shoes," I mumbled, feeling my face flush bright red.

"You threw up… on Zmey?" He spoke slowly, enunciating each word—making me reach out and smack his arm.

"Yes I did. Do you want to hear the graphic details—right before you eat?"

He glanced down at his plate, shrugging before he shot me a lopsided grin. "Good point—and speaking of eating, you better dig in. The Mazur express is leaving for middle of nowhere Montana in about an hour, give or take, so you need to eat fast. "

"Nice of him to give us a heads up." I eyed my plate for a minute, grimacing at the amount of grease that coated everything—then took his advice and dug in so we could hurry home and pack.

I had hoped we would be well away before my brother heard news of our impromptu trip; despite his change of attitude towards Guardian Johnson, I knew he wouldn't be pleased with our arrangements. As fate would have it, he found out right away—probably because my mother found it almost impossible to lie. I took my grandmother's advice and turned off my cellphone to stop its incessant ringing—foolishly thinking the action would help postpone a confrontation until we returned. Unfortunately for all of us, my big brother… well, let's just say he was far more determined than we thought.

Dimitri was waiting for us at the curb outside the building, leaning against the car we'd ordered with an angry scowl on his face—and while he held his tongue admirably well, his frustration was evident in the set of his jaw and the furrows of worry that gathered at the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. Still, as upset as he was, my brother was smart enough to realize that he couldn't protest too much without implying that I was untrustworthy—and that our grandmother was too. He remained silent until we reached the airstrip, waiting until or grandmother began arguing with 'Guardian Johnson' before voicing his objections— softly—so that there was no chance Yeva might overhear.

"I do not like this—not one bit Viktoria. You should have spoken up this morning and told me your plans. The whole thing is… highly improper."

"Improper for a young woman to go on a business trip with her grandmother serving as chaperone? Really Dimitri—you are acting ridiculous. As far as our escort is concerned, you should be pleased that Abe is so worried about my safety. I would think that you would _appreciate_ the fact he is sending someone along to keep an eye on me while I run his errand." The lie slipped off my tongue gracefully—so smooth that I didn't falter at all. "Besides, what happened to the promise you made this morning—you were going to stop assuming things about Guardian Johnson, remember?"

"That was before I knew he was going away with you!" He shot a dark look in Adrian's direction—receiving a friendly grin in return. "I don't like you working for Ibrahim either—you and I both know that not all of his dealings are legitimate."

"This one is. He wants to set up a scholarship program in Roza's name to help under privileged students get the materials they need." It was the truth—at least partially. "Again, that is something I would think you would be pleased with, but instead you chose to growl at me like an angry, bristling tiger."

"And what exactly do you know about scholarships Vika?"

"Nothing—but I know enough about needy students to have spoken to the Royal Council at the Queen's request," I answered smugly. "I will assess what is lacking for those students and report back to him so he can gather the figures he needs to determine how much to give."

"How long do you plan to be gone? I told you I wanted to start training." Realizing he couldn't argue down my statement, he tried to change his tactic—but I was ready for him.

"A few days, no more. When I get back we can begin training immediately… and I _do_ plan on watching a few classes while I am there—if they will let me—so I can compare the difference in the fighting styles they are teaching and see where I might be lacking."

"And what will our poor grandmother be doing while you work? Sit around bored with nothing to do—"

"Nonsense. I will have our handsome young Guardian Johnson to keep me company. I have taught him to play Canasta and am winning a small fortune." Yeva's voice cut him off, spinning his head around. "Do not worry about me grandson—I can always find things to amuse me. Come Viktoria—we must go."

I stretched up—tugging at his sleeve when he didn't bend to meet me half way. "You are going to punish me by not letting me kiss you goodbye? Really Dimitri—I am beginning to suspect that of the two of us, I am the more mature one."

The tanned skin along his cheeks flushed with a hint of color at my scolding; a moment later his arms slid around me, muscles bunching under his skin as he lifted me up to his level. "Maybe I am just tired of always having to bend, little sister. You should grow a few more inches to even things out."

"Bite your tongue! I am already the tallest girl in my class, Mitya!" Hugging him, I pressed my lips against his cheek, then whispered, "Do not be angry with me, please. I promise I will behave."

"I know you will, kotyonok—I trust you." He kissed the tip of my nose the way he always use to do when I was small, then set me down gently, hugging me close to his side. "May God keep you safe until we are together again."

"Do not even think of manhandling me like that boy—old bones are fragile, while yours are young and strong." Yeva nudged me out of the way, tilting her head up for her kiss.

"Do I get a kiss too—or would that be pushing things?" Adrian drawled, moving over to grab our bags from the back of the car.

Dimitri looked so taken aback that Yeva and I started laughing—defusing the remaining tension that was lingering in the air. "I am sorry to disappoint you Johnson, but my kisses are reserved for my family."

"And your Roza," Yeva pointed out, tugging me towards the plane.

"Ah yes—and she is a very greedy woman. She does not like to share." Dimitri smiled, nodding his head at Adrian, watching while the three of us hurried up the stairs and onto the plane.

The flight itself was uneventful for the most part; Adrian dozed most of the way, his fingers laced through mine. When he nodded off I was glad, not just because he was getting the rest he needed, but also because it gave me a chance to grill my grandmother on some of the questions that kept flicking through my mind. Of course, Yeva rarely gave more than brief, cryptic answers, so discussing anything with her was always a frustrating experience at best. I studied her, trying to decide the best way to begin—in other words, how to phrase my questions in a way that she might actually answer outright for a change.

"It is rude to stare, Viktoria Aleksandra." Her eyes darted up from her knitting, locking on my face. "You were raised better than that."

I didn't apologize—though I knew she wanted me to. Instead I just returned her gaze, trying not to frown. "You knew, didn't you? About Roza and Adrian."

"Of course—Ambrose told me the night of the party."

"And yet you said nothing to warn me—your flesh and blood."

"Is this about taking sides then? Is that why you are sulking?" She continued to knit, her eyes locked with mine—fingers flying, but never dropping a stitch. "You and Roza were close when she stayed with us… but now you can barely stand to say her name. Why is that Viktoria?"

I lost our silent battle of wills, dropping my eyes to my lap—not wanting to answer her question. "There are too many things to list."

"Try. We have what—five hours to spare, do we not? Unless you have something better to do with that time? Start at the very beginning and we will make our way through them all—shall I start for you? The party your little friend threw?"

"I got over that a long time ago," I mumbled, playing with a loose thread on the hem of my skirt. "She embarrassed me that night… but it was more than just that deep down. She assumed the worst of me… that I would do… things."

"Speak plainly child—you won't shock me, and I might die of old age by the time you fumble your way around the issue. Did you know the sort of place it was when you went there? If so you cannot fault Roza for assuming what she did."

"No I didn't—but you don't understand. She thought it because she already had a preconceived idea of what we were like—because we live in a commune," I said, scowling.

"You know my views on such things Viktoria—like sex, sharing blood should be an act of love. I will not judge women or men who feed the ones they are committed to… and I will not cast aspersions on what grown men and women chose to do with their lives. What goes on in establishments like that… it gives people the wrong idea of what life in a commune is like, but what is more important to _me_ is how the people who go to places like that and the ones who work there are _cheating_ themselves in the long run. They are missing out on the deeper meaning of such an exchange entirely—they are in it for the immediate pleasure they feel or for the money they make, or like my sister… they are addicted to the bite…so in the end, something that should be a beautiful expression of sharing between two people is sullied and made worthless, becoming nothing more than an act." She sighed, shaking her head, falling silent for a moment. "Perhaps I am just old fashioned, but I do not understand the way young people today lack the understanding of how priceless such a thing should be. They willingly give themselves to person after person as if they are worthless, not of recognizing the most important thing of all... that when you allow another person access to your body… it is the greatest gift you can give another being—it is something that should be honored and given the reverence it deserves."

I felt my cheeks flush; I ducked my head, trying to hide my face from her, but she leaned forward, slipping her finger underneath my chin—forcing me to look at her. "Do not hide from me, granddaughter. I know what you have done."

Glancing over at Adrian, I switched to Russian—even though he was asleep. "And you are ashamed of me, yes? I practically threw myself at him."

"No—I am not ashamed. I am proud that you followed your heart, for it led you to the very thing that fate meant for you to find," she murmured, her hand moving up to gently stroke my cheek. "Always listen closely to your heart, kotyonok and compare what it says to your dreams. The two combined will never lead you down the wrong path—I promise."

"But he loves her," I whispered, fighting against the prickling warmth I felt filling my eyes. "And it is part of the reason I hate her. What if he never breaks free of that love—what do I do then?"

"Love… is a very strange thing, Viktoria. Many people _think_ they know what love is, when the truth is they do not. They want to love… they want to find that person they belong with—so sometimes they convince themselves that what they feel is real. I suppose in a way it is, but it is… a _lesser_ love than the one they were meant to find—if that makes sense. Because the truth of the matter is that during your life… you will have one _real_ love, granddaughter. One _great _ love—so intense that all others seem like nothing more than pale imitations. It will fill you with a sense of perfection that nothing else can match—and when you feel that sense of completion… you will _ know_ without a doubt that you have found the soul who's resonance matches your own. That soul… it is the one yours was _made_ for. The soul that God created in tandem with your own." Her dark eyes darted over to Adrian, then back to my face. "But I think perhaps… you know the exact feeling I am describing, yes? In my visions… when I saw him… his soul chimed the same melody as yours."

Her words were powerful, scary things, making me tremble; I understood what she was saying as clearly as I knew my name. "Yes… I know what you mean. But what I know does not matter—what _he_ _feels_ does."

"Give it time, little Vika—you are always so impatient. The things worth keeping are the things that you must work for… the things that take the longest to get. Besides… men are not as perceptive as women—they feel the same things, but do not recognize or acknowledge them right away. It took your grandfather three years to understand what he was feeling—by the time he did, I was so frustrated… I made _him_ wait another forty days before admitting I felt the same."

I smiled—just a little—imagining how hard it must have to pretend she felt nothing for someone she loved so deeply. "I will remind myself of that when my impatience gets too strong."

"I am glad my words can help you—gladder still that you have the common sense to listen when wisdom speaks." She sat back, reclaiming the knitting that she'd set aside to comfort me. "You cannot hate Roza for how your kotik feels, Vika. It is beneath you to blame her for something that is not her fault"

"I can hate her for how she treats him—you heard her at lunch, talking as if he were trash. And she _betrayed_ my brother!"

"I agree that her treatment of him is intolerable—which is why I sternly reprimanded her and put her in her place. I think that when it comes to our kotik… Roza is very bitter—what we must consider _why_. She admitted that she did not want him to hurt—that she still cares, even though he hates her—so surely that in itself is the answer that we seek? The anger between them is the source of the entire problem." She glanced over at Adrian, her brow furrowing as she spoke. "You tell me he is in love with her—but when you _truly_ love someone, their happiness comes first, above all things… even your own. Your Dusha… he does not feel that for our Roza, Viktoria. So again… I assure you that what he feels for her isn't real love. Whatever it is that eats away at him… until he confronts it and lets go of the past, the both of them will continue to wallow in their bitterness until those old wounds are healed."

"I suppose," I murmured, playing with Adrian's fingers. "But that still does not excuse her for dishonoring Dimitri's love."

"Roza is very accomplished at many things Viktoria, but she is still very young. She does not have the benefit of a wise grandmother to council her and never did. Can you imagine what it must be like to grow up as she did—all alone, without a family? To not have anyone that loved you or a place to call home for the entirety of your life? Now picture that poor, unloved child growing into a young woman—and finally discovering the magic of loving someone and being loved in return after such a long, lonely time. She found the great love that we spoke of—only to have it stolen away by death. Think about the way something as simple as a _name_ affected her—simply because it was the name of the monster who took Dimitri away from her."

"Yeva—"

"I am not finished. You will listen because you need to hear this—you need to _learn_ to put yourself in another's place to understand what they _feel_. For those of us with the sight… empathy is a very, very important thing—it helps us know how to temper the predictions that we relay to others. If you saw that your sister's fiancé had a woman on the side, would you blurt it out all at once? Or would you try to convey the horrible truth in a way that spared her feelings? You must put _yourself_ in the others place, so you think before you speak."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I thought about what she said. "So Roza had a bad childhood… but that is no reason for her to forsake the man who loved her."

"As I said… I am not finished. Such lessons are lengthy and your impatience often gets in the way. You know how I feel about interruptions, child—so you will hold your thoughts until I finish, yes?"

I nodded, slumping down in my seat—wondering if she'd get to the point before we reached Montana.

"Most women would have written Dimitri off as lost forever—but did Roza? No—she turned her back on her friends and everything she knew… setting off to hunt him down and give his soul peace. And when she found him… what did she have to do, granddaughter? She had to kill him with her own hand—driving _a stake through his heart._ Could you find the strength to do that? To kill your Dusha, even if her were Strigoi?" A single tear trailed down her cheek, but she made no move to wipe her face.

"So this young girl lost her great love twice—once by her own hand. We now know she failed—thank God above—but at the time, she had no such knowledge. She returned to the life she had abandoned during her quest, broken and weary—most probably wishing she could lay down and die, joining our Dimitri in the grave. But what was waiting for her when she went back? A man, who was good and kind—one of her dearest friends; perhaps he offered her the comfort her soul needed, distracting her from the horrific knowledge of what she had done. And maybe as time past, she felt guilt over his love for her—after all, she was far too familiar with the pain that comes from loving something that is out of reach—and she decided to spare him the agonizing grief by trying to give him what he needed as best she could. I do not know… I am not Roza. I have not walked her path—and _neither have you._"

I brushed away the tears that were flowing down my cheeks; the shame I felt in that moment was a hot, scalding thing. She was right—how dare I judge Roza when I had been spared the crushing agony that she must have felt. "Perhaps it is all just jealousy that I feel—over the fact that Adrian loves her… and over her replacing me as Dimitri's favorite."

"Out of all the things said today… only this upsets me. Do you think your brother's heart is so small that he must omit one to love another? Do you love Dimitri any less now that you have found your Dusha?"

"No—of course not. But—"

"There are no 'buts', Viktoria. I am ashamed of you, child. For a girl who has so many people to love that love her in return to be so petty over such a thing! Have you ever seen your brother so happy?"

"No—I haven't." I frowned, switching back to English now that the talk of Roza was done. It was a struggle to put my thoughts into words she might understand—but I tried my best. "I know that what you say is true in my head…but sometimes my feelings… they override my common sense."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "And _that _ is the smartest thing you've said since we began. Sometimes we must conquer what we feel, using what we _know_ to override the irrational things. Jealousy… it is like bitterness, kotyonok—it seeps into us slowly, poisoning all the joy and leaving only doubt. It is something you must banish before it can take root, otherwise—"

Something flitted across her face—an emotion I couldn't quite place; immediately, her eyes dropped to her knitting, her lips compressing in a thin, tight line. I stretched out my hand, laying it on her arm, but still, she would not look at me. "What's wrong?

"It is nothing—I simply thought about something that has not crossed my mind in a very long time."

"About me?"

"No—about your father. Jealousy was one of the things that plagued him. He was envious of the love in our household and how freely it was given."

"We would have loved him…but he never seemed to want it. He never gave us the chance."

"You are right—and he is a perfect example of how jealousy breeds destruction wherever it appears."

Her mentioning my father gave me the perfect opportunity to bring up the things that Zmey had said and the fears his words had given me—but in the past, whenever I tried to discuss the man, immediately she shut down. I chewed at the corner of my lip, hesitant to speak. "Zmey… he thinks my father is the one that killed Ivan. That he was so wicked and evil he drained his own son."

She didn't respond—seeming completely intent on the movement of her needles as they worked the yarn into shape. I sat back, sighing, taking her silence as an indication that the topic was off limits—that was when she cleared her throat, her voice the softest of murmurs.

"It is truth. I saw it many years before the event occurred."

"You did not speak up to warn Dimitri? He might have saved Ivan! You could have spared him the pain and guilt he felt over failing our brother that night!"

"No—some things cannot be changed Viktoria. To do so is to tempt fate, which is a very dangerous thing. There will come a time when your Sight is clearer…when you will see more than one path. One will be what is predestined—the other what will happen if you dare to interfere. Had I warned Dimitri… he would have died with Ivan. Your father had a gun—he was hoping your brother would show up… wanting to avenge himself for the beating Dimitri gave him. I chose to save my grandson—and I feel no shame over my actions. If given the same choice, I would not change a thing."

"You're right," I whispered, "I would have done it too."

"I have always prayed that you would never face such a choice, granddaughter… but I know that in time… you must. When you do… choose wisely. Think not only of yourself but of how your decision will affect the ones you love."

I frowned, troubled by the thought of being forced to decide who might live or die; it reaffirmed the one thing I honestly believed all the way down to the center of my soul—that the Sight was no gift, but a curse that rested on our heads. "Dusha… he said that when we have a vision, our aura looks like a spirit users. Only now… he is not sure if what he saw was real or a figment of his mind."

"Is that a question?"

I nodded. "Has Oksa ever commented on something like that? Mentioned it in passing, perhaps?"

"You assume that Oksana has seen me heavily ridden with vision. She hasn't."

"That's not an answer," I complained.

"It is." Yeva stared at me, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

I turned her words over in my head, trying to puzzle them out. "You are saying that yes—it is true…but only when a vision is particularly strong?"

"Very good—but only partially correct."

I waited for her to elaborate—but of course, she didn't. "So what part is incorrect?"

"I would say that it depends on the person and how strong their Gift might be. To be truthful… I do not know that Oksa ever tried to view my aura… or how strong her abilities in that area might be, kotyonok. I can tell you only what I remember reading and the things your grandfather shared."

"So you meant the Spirit users gift?"

"That plays into it, I would think—but mostly I refer to the seer."

"Does Mama have it?" I asked, remembering Adrian's questions. "Or my sisters?"

"No. If she had the same gift we share… things might have been very different for her. Karolina and Sonya… those two are all but head blind. They barely listen to their own good instincts, let alone outside sources."

"Dimitri?"

She thought about it for a moment, frowning. "My instinct is to say no… but he is very intuitive. Nothing like what we have, kotyonok. None of the men in our line have ever had the abilities we share… except, perhaps my nephew—but even then, it is not the same. He senses things—he can tell what people are feeling without really having to try. People enjoy being around him because his presence makes them feel better—not realizing it is because he has a gift for easing their emotions. Somehow he has the ability to take a measure of the troubles from their mind, giving them a bit of his cheer in return."

"Why is this the first I am hearing about this cousin?" It was strange, hearing her talk about family that I'd never met. "I would like to meet him… to get to know his branch of our family tree."

"You have met him, granddaughter. He lived with us when you were small—Zoya's age… perhaps a bit younger. And you will meet him again…. very soon."

"When we go home? But I have to return to school!"

"Do not whine child—it annoys me. I said very soon—and I meant it. My nephew used to write to me quite frequently… but his letters stopped, shortly after he changed jobs." Her face lit up as she smiled, her grin brighter than I'd seen it since the day my brother had returned home. "It is part of the reason I invited myself along on this—so I could scold him for worrying me. My Savva… he works at Saint Vladimir's."

"He worked with Mitya?"

"He did—I have often wondered if his letters stopped because he felt guilt over what happened to your brother that day. Soon I will find out—and if he does not have a good excuse for ignoring me, I will turn him over my knee."

I chuckled at the thought; my grandmother often threatened us with spankings—but she never followed through. "Are there any more mysterious relatives I should know about? A few Great Aunts and Uncles that you've been hiding away?"

"I am sorry… no. I am the last of nine, kotyonok. Many of my siblings… they died when I was small. Life was very hard back then—we wandered quite a bit." Her eyes were full of sadness as she spoke, her hands tightening around the needles she held. "Liliana, my sister—she was the only one who lived past twenty five. She was Savva's mother—for a time, I helped her raise him. We moved in with them when he was just a little thing—your mother was nine or ten."

"Did your sister have what we do? The visions?" I hated to prod her—but the more information Adrian had, the more likely he would find what we needed to figure out the mystery.

"No. My grandmother did… and her grandmother before her. My sister… she had a different father than I did, Viktoria."

"But if you have the same mother and grandmother then surely—"

"Must I spell everything out for you, child? The visions come to those of us that have—"Her voice trailed off, dark eyes darting over to Adrian's sleeping face. "No—I cannot say more. I cannot influence your choices—no matter how much I want to. There are some things you and your Dusha must discover on your own."

"I've already figured that part out—even if she hasn't." I jumped at the unexpected sound of Adrian's voice; he hadn't been sleeping—just pretending to. "You might as well tell her… or I will."

Yeva remained silent; Adrian sighed, shaking his head. "The visions manifest when the parents share similar gifts—or come from a line that has them. A seer… and a Spirit user. Yeva's father… was a Spirit user."

"But my father wasn't a Spirit user, so how—"

"Wasn't he?" Yeva arched ha brow. "At first he told Olena that he was an air user—the same thing Oksa claimed when I first met her. Think about his fits, Viktoria. One minute he was happy and cheerful—the most charming man you could meet. Then in the blink of an eye he was in a violent rage, lashing out at anyone he could. He tried to control it the way your kotik does—by drinking—but it did not work for him…it just made his insanity worse."

"But you said you helped my grandfather…couldn't you have helped him?" I fought against the tears that were prickling in my eyes, not understanding their cause. I hated my father more than anything—but the thought that he couldn't help what he did made me question everything I felt.

"No. _I_ couldn't. Your mother tried but—"

"You said she didn't have the gift—of course she couldn't!"

"I told her that! She didn't listen—she hoped to prove me wrong. I do not know everything, granddaughter; some things I suspect, but there is no real way to prove them—but the one thing I know for certain is that the Gift has never passed from mother to child. It lies dormant within, waiting for the next generation—and even then, it only manifests for the one who's soul is strong enough to bear the burden of the visions."

"Lucky me," I whispered, caustically.

"Someday… you will realize the truth in what you just said, Viktoria. You _will_ thank God above for how lucky you really _are._ When that happens, _both_ of you will understand the ways of fate. You will remember the riddle I gave at lunch—and then you will give me the answer."

"How many generations back does it go, Ms. Belikova?" Adrian looked completely intrigued—though I couldn't understand why.

Yeva sighed, closing her eyes; she looked so very small and tired that I felt guilty for wearing her out. "Further back than Moroi records reach, kotik."

"I really wish one of you would tell me what the hell that means—"

"The answer is the same as it was when you asked last night—learn Russian," Yeva retorted, opening her eyes and giving him a pointed look.

"It means 'tom cat', moy Dusha," I said, gently squeezing his hand.

"Like… the animal?" He frowned, looking hurt. "So it's an insult—because of my reputation."

"It doesn't mean anything bad, Dusha—"

He pulled his hand out of mine, shifting to the other side of his chair—not looking at either of us. "Really? Cause tom cats are known for being unfaithful—when there were rumors around Court about someone cheating on their spouse, Aunt Tatiana always said they were out 'catting' around."

Yeva chuckled at his sullen expression. "Nonsense. I refer to you in such a manner for no such reason. For years I have had visions of my granddaughter with a cat—a strange thing to see when one considers how animals hate our kind—don't you agree?"

"So what does that have to do with me?" Adrian huffed, scowling at her amusement.

"If you listen you will learn the answer that you seek, boy." She rolled her eyes, her lips twitching up in a smile." "This cat… it was a very handsome creature—with dark silky fur that it groomed all the time. It's eyes were beautiful—big and green, like giant emeralds, though they were filled with the haughty arrogance that all cats seem to have. The more I dreamed of this cat, the bigger he grew—until one day, he changed, right in front of my eyes. Do you know what he turned into Lord Ivashkov?"

Adrian shook his head—listening respectfully, despite his irritation. "No, what?"

"That cat became _you_.Long before I saw your face in the ballroom that night, you were in my visions. The beautiful, proud cat that never strayed from my kotyonok's side."

"And that means?"

"It has always been Vika's nickname—she is our little kitten."

He laughed; it was a happy, joyous sound, contagious enough to make me smile. "The cat and the kitten… I like it."

"You see? I told you it was nothing bad," I murmured, my smile widening as he moved closer, his hand reclaiming mine.

"I have a question for you, now that you are done pretending to nap, kotik. When you gave Roza that name at lunch… the one that upset her so… was their malice in your heart?" Yeva's voice was soft, her face betraying nothing. It was a mask, hiding away whatever had prompted the question.

"No—Nathan is my father's name. As angry as I am with her about things… I'd never purposefully remind Rose of what happened that night—I know how much it hurt her." His smile faded, his hand tightening around mine. "I never knew the name of the Strigoi that turned your grandson."

"I thought as much… but I had to be sure. You do not want to hurt her and she does not want to hurt you… so perhaps the wounds are already starting to close." Her eyes found mine and she smiled, looking incredibly pleased. "The bitterness is already fading Viktoria… they just don't know how to let go of the hurt."

"I feel like I'm missing something," Adrian tugged at my hand, looking puzzled. "What is she talking about?"

It was not my place to explain things; my grandmother was right—sometimes you had to know when to remain silent, holding your tongue. As long as he believed that he still loved Roza, he wasn't ready for the truth; if I tried to tell him otherwise, it would do more harm than good. As much as I might want to guide him down the path, he had to discover it on his own—though I could certainly hold his hand and support him along the way.

Smiling, I leaned over, pressing my lips against his cheek. "Some things you have to discover on your own, moy Dusha. In time… you will understand everything—it just takes a little patience. But I promise… when you figure it out…it will be worth the wait."

It was the right thing to say—but as for whether or not I would actually have the patience to stand by my words and let him figure things out on his own was another matter entirely. I just hoped that between Yeva's wisdom and my common sense, I could survive however long it took.

* * *

**_A/N: I apologize for the delay in updating—I completely forgot that Nano (National Novel Writing Month) was coming up, or I would have posted a warning about updates being slow in November. December won't be much better with preparing for Christmas, but I swear I will try to get the next chapter up soon since it is already mostly written. This one is unedited because again… it's long… and I don't want to add any more. _**

**_Yeva had a lot to say in this one… and it is really hard shutting her up. -.-_**

**_Next Chapter is Saint Vlad's—wonder what will happen if Stan Alto makes the mistake of being rude to Yeva? ;o)_**

**_As always, thanks for the comments and messages—they always make me smile. *hugs* _**


	13. Chapter 13: Little Cabin in the Woods

_Dear Diary,_

_We were met on the tarmac by an attractive dhampir woman; she seemed to be a bit older than my mother—though when a dhampir has been in service for a few years, it is often hard to tell their real age. Being a guardian is a very hard life; patrolling exposes you to the worst of the elements—and all the years spent training and fighting wear you down, aging you far beyond your years. _

_In spite of her weathered skin, I still thought she was quite lovely; her gray eyes were warm and her smile was bright and friendly as she hurried over to greet us._

"Dimitri called and asked me to meet you—I can't tell you how good it was to hear his voice on the other end of the line. I'm honored to meet you Ms. Belikova—Arthur spoke quite highly of you, and of course, your grandson did too. I'm Alberta Petrov—the head guardian here at the Academy." She bowed—an unexpected honor that I could tell pleased Yeva immensely.

"Dimitri and his Roza have told me of your kindness, Madam—and I think for Roza to speak warmly about anyone is a very rare thing indeed."

"Very true—she's a hard girl to please." The woman laughed, her smile widening as her attention turned to me. "Your resemblance to your brother is absolutely amazing—if you were a few years older I'd swear you could be twins."

I shook her hand, smiling at the comment. "It is very nice to meet you Guardian Petrov—though I must warn you in advance, the resemblance is only superficial. I am a great deal more outspoken than Dimitri."

Adrian snorted. "More friendly too."

His comment drew the woman's gray eyes; they narrowed ever so slightly, her brow wrinkling as she spoke. "I assume you're Johnson? Have we met before? You seem… very familiar for some reason."

"No ma'am—this is my first visit to your school." His eyes dropped to the ground, his fingers beating out a nervous rhythm on his thigh.

I reached out, touching her arm—trying to save Adrian from her scrutiny. "Did my brother mention that I hoped to observe some classes during my visit?"

"Yes he did—I've already arranged it and worked out a schedule for you. Don't worry—he also told me you were here working for Abe Mazur, so I left you plenty of time to gather the information that you need. Though if the Headmistress had bothered to tell me about the scholarship he's setting up I could have made a list of the students that need help and what supplies they are lacking."

"If you have the time I would be most appreciative of the list—though I am on vacation… I still have to do my classwork, so it would be a big help." I smiled, trying to look earnest—wanting her to believe me. "I also hope to utilize your library while I am here. I know I won't be able to check anything out, but I have reports I need to work on for my theory and ethics classes."

"Certainly—I'll give them a call and let them know to expect you." Her eyes darted back to Adrian; she tilted her head, almost squinting as she studied him. "Maybe we met at Court—I swear I know you from somewhere, Johnson—I just can't quite place it."

"People often tell me I look a lot like my mother… she was an Ivashkov. Maybe you see my resemblance to the family." Adrian glanced up at her, then averted his eyes to the ground.

"That's it—you have their eyes. In fact… you look so much like one of them that you could probably pass for his brother."

"Madam Petrov—"My grandmother stepped forward, leaning heavily on her cane. "I do not mean to be impolite, but the flight was long and I am tired—before my exhaustion gets the best of me, I would like to see my kin."

The guardian looked more than a little confused by the statement. 'I'm sorry—I don't understand what you mean. Your kin?"

"I have a cousin here on campus—my grandmother has not heard from him in a while and would like to catch up," I explained. As soon as the words left my mouth I felt a familiar prickle racing through my brain.

"Oh… of course—I was unaware Dimitri had any relatives at the Academy. Just give me his name and I'll track him down and write him an excuse from class—the day is almost over, so he won't miss too much."

"Oh my nephew is not a student—he is a guardian. Savva Luzhkkov is his name."

Petrov's eyes widened, her face paling at the name; at that moment, I knew what was coming… and I sensed it wasn't good news. My grandmother's visions had forewarned her about Dimitri; she'd had time to prepare herself and grieve in private, where no one could see her—not to mention she'd also seen that Roza would somehow set him free. But this? She had actually been excited about seeing my cousin, which meant she was about to be taken by complete surprise. Immediately I slid my arm around Yeva's shoulder, holding on to her tightly though she tried to pull away. "Viktoria… what's gotten into you, child?"

"He's… not here… is he?" I asked, my eyes locked on the guardian's stunned expression. "He's gone."

"I'm sorry… he's been missing since the battle. We counted him among the dead." Her voice was soft and apologetic—but the gentle tone did not ease the heavy weight of the words she'd said.

Yeva sagged—practically dead weight; Adrian was at her side immediately, scooping her up in his arms. "It's okay—I've got you old girl. Just hang onto me."

"I'm so sorry Ms. Belikova—he was a good man… one I considered a good friend. Johnson, I have a car waiting—let's get her to her room. I'll have the Academy doctor meet us there—"

"No—that won't be necessary. She doesn't like doctors." Adrian's voice was firm as he headed for the car; I could tell he was planning on healing Yeva if she needed it—and this time I wouldn't argue. My grandmother was the strongest woman I knew, but receiving such a shock at her age wasn't a good thing.

Yeva remained silent almost all the way across the campus; her eyes were tightly closed, tears streaming down her face. I held her hand, gently wiping away the wetness on her face, but she didn't even look at me. "I am sorry grandmother… so sorry."

"I promised Lili I would watch over him," she whispered, her hand squeezing mine. "I did not see this… I tried so many times to find him in my visions… but his image refused to come. I failed my baby sister… and now the last piece of her is gone."

"Remember what you told me when I was younger? About the angels speaking? Maybe they needed to add his voice to their beautiful song." I winced as a sharp pain lanced through my skull—a movement that did not go unnoticed by the dhampir in the front seat.

"Viktoria… are you alright? Emil—turn around, we're going to the clinic." She reached back, laying her hand against my cheek. "You've gone white as a ghost—"

"She's fine—she gets headaches." Adrian batted her hand away, his green eyes locking with mine; when another pain hit and I whimpered, he cursed under his breath. "Just get us to our rooms—please. She needs to lie down."

"Are you sure? It would only take a few minutes to have them both checked out. Our doctor—"

"They don't need to see Olendzki—I'm telling you they'll be fine." His eyes darted over, locking with hers—my skin beginning to tingle. He was pulling on his element—preparing to compel her into believing what he said.

"Dusha… I'm fine. Please… don't," I whispered, wanting him to save his strength for Yeva, just in case.

"We're here." The bearded dhampir that was driving shut off the ignition, getting out of the car; a moment later the door beside me opened and he reached in to help me out. "Can you walk, Miss Belikova? Or is the pain too bad?"

"I can walk… thank you. Just help him with my grandmother please—she is the one in need." My eyes met Alberta's gray ones across the roof of the car—she was staring at me with a worried look on her face. "Guardian Petrov? Are you alright?"

"Hmmm? Yes—I'm sorry… let me grab your bags—"

"I'll bring them up—what rooms are they in?" The man—Emil—had moved to the trunk and was already removing our luggage.

"Three fifteen and three sixteen—right across the hall from each other." She called back over her shoulder, hurrying to open the door for Adrian and Yeva.

I followed after them, fighting against the pain—praying that I could hold off the vision until we were alone. It grew stronger with every step I took—twice I had to stop on the stairs and lean against the wall. The second time, Emil dropped the bags, reaching out to steady me.

"This is not just a headache, is it?" It was a murmur, too low for anyone else to hear.

"It is—I get them sometimes. I think the change in altitude brings them on."

He eyed me skeptically, but didn't push me—instead, he left our luggage on the stairs, wrapping his arm around my waist as he guided me towards our rooms. "Your brother was my friend, Miss Belikvoa…. We talked of many things on our patrols—I know that your grandmother is a látnok."

I glanced over at him, unfamiliar with the word—but understanding what he meant. "She is."

"When I was a boy… there was a human psychic in my village. Sometimes… when the spirits visited her… she had pain like you." His expression was guarded, but the look in his eyes spoke volume; it was almost reverent—the look some people get when looking at a statue or painting of the blessed mother in church.

"I do not know what you mean," I murmured softly, dropping my eyes to the ground. Without warning, I stumbled, the hallway growing dim—beginning to waiver, right before my eyes. It was still there, but another image slowly superimposed itself over the stone walls and wooden floor; trees flickered along the edges of my peripheral vision, a narrow dirt path ribboning through them—and on that path… walked a man that I'd never seen before. "Sir… did you know my cousin Savva? I never met him…could you describe him for me?" It was the faintest whisper—but it was enough.

"He was my height—but wider, much broader than me, with dark hair and dark eyes. And… he always had a very sad look on his face." The arm around me tightened; his strength was all that was keeping me on my feet.

I nodded slowly, closing my eyes; he'd just described the man before me. "Thank you. Please… do not mention my question to anyone. I don't want anyone to know—"

"I understand—let me help you."

Though I tried my best to walk, he practically had to drag me, steering me gently towards the open door to one of the rooms; Adrian had laid my grandmother on the bed and was crouched on the floor beside her, whispering to her softly as she clung to his hand. Petrov stood near the doorway, her eyes widening as Emil helped me into the room and led me over to the small couch under the window.

"What happened?"

"She became dizzy on the stairs—I thought it best to help her. If you'll excuse me, I must grab their bags." He squeezed my hand as he answered her—silent reassurance that my secret was still safe.

"I really think—" Alberta began, but Yeva's voice cut her off.

"We will be fine, Madam. My granddaughter is not used to flying… and I have had a shock. I did not know my nephew was… dead." "Ms. Belikova, I can't tell you how sorry I am—" "Yes yes… thank you. But I must ask you—what became of his things? Do you have them still? I would like to have something… to remember him by." Yeva's voice was stronger; she was slowly coming to grips with her grief—or rather, getting a handle on it so it was easier to hide away. But then, Adrian was still holding her hand with a look of concentration on his face, so he might have had a little to do with the change in her demeanor too.

"They're still in the cabin he used—it was one of the older ones on the outskirts of campus that we never use so I saw no point in moving them." The dhampir's eyes dropped, a hint of red touching her cheeks. "After packing up Dimitri's things… I just couldn't face doing the same with Savva's. I suppose a part of me hoped that one day he'd show up."

"I must go there… to be among his things. I must pay my respects." Yeva tried to sit up, but Adrian's hand moved to her shoulder, forcing her back down.

"Not yet—you need to rest a while first."

"You don't understand kotik, I need to see—"

"I'll go—I know what to do." I whispered—the hushed sound pulling her eyes my way. I stood up, moving over to the couch, taking her hand in mine. "You will rest and let me say your goodbyes for you, yes?"

"I do not know if you can do what needs to be done, child. You have not—"

I understood what she meant—she did not realize I sometimes glimpsed the past as well as the future. I'd never told her what I'd seen that day in the garden, but I certainly couldn't explain that now—not with Petrov standing right there. "I have—twice now. Trust me, grandmother… please."

She stared up at me for a moment, then sighed, slowly nodding her head. "Guardian Petrov… will you please take my granddaughter—"

"Guardian Johnson needs to go with me, and I will not leave you alone," I interrupted, glancing over at Alberta, giving her a pleading look. "I know you are very busy Madam… but if you could stay with her and make sure she rests, I would be indebted to you."

"I need to show you where it is—you'll never find the cabin on your own. I can't have the two of you lost, wandering around in the woods… you might wander outside the wards and—."

"I will take them. I know the way." Emil cut her off, dropping the bags just inside the door. "You need to be here anyway, to fill Izolda in on what happened. I called her—she is on her way over to check over Ms. Belikova."

"I told you she didn't—"

"Guardian Johnson—it is alright." Yeva pulled her hand free from his grip, reaching up to stroke his cheek—quieting his protest. "She can give me something for my arthritis while she is here—my joints are aching terribly. Go with Viktoria—help her… please."

For a minute it looked like he would argue—I could tell by the set of his jaw and the grim, determined look on his face. "If you're sure…"

"I am. This is what must be." Her eyes flicked over to me, her head nodding ever so slightly; the fact she understood why I needed him with me confirmed what I already knew—whatever it was she was hoping we would locate at Savva's cabin… I'd have to embrace the Sight to find it.

"If you brought a pair of sturdier shoes I suggest changing into them—we will be trekking through a very dense area. You should probably put on long pants or jeans as well," Emil offered from the spot on the wall where he'd stationed himself.

"Of course… thank you." I grabbed my bag, looking around the room—unsure which of the two interior doors led to the bathroom.

"You can change in your room—this one is Guardian Johnson's. I put you ladies in the larger one since you're sharing." Alberta opened the door, moving across the hall; I followed her, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head. "I'm sorry the rooms are rather Spartan—usually the only ones who use this building are Guardians that are visiting the campus with their charges."

"Please do not worry yourself—we do not need anything fancy. You forget… I am use to living in the Novice dorm at Saint Basil's." I dropped my bag on the large bed, rooting around for what I needed.

"That's the academy I attended—tell me… is the girls dormitory still drafty in the winter, or have they finally patched up all the leaks?"

I glanced up at her, smirking. "Oh no—it still gets terribly cold. I think the administration believes that the freezing temperature makes us stronger or something—or that it will make us get dressed and to class faster. I actually tack a thick blanket over the window in my room—that helps quite a bit."

"Smart girl—just like your brother." Her smile wilted, lines of worry reclaiming her brow—making her look much older and more tired than she'd been a moment before. ""Viktoria… I'm sorry about what happened—"

"Grandmother will be fine," I hurried to assure her as I quickly changed into my jeans; I saw no point in pretending to be modest—between having two sisters and using the locker room at school, I was used to undressing in front of people. "The news just took her by surprise. She's a very strong woman—she'll probably outlive the both of us."

"I didn't mean that... I was talking about what happened to Dimitri. Our primary objective was to get the Moroi and the novices to safety and… well… I'm sorry for the pain your family went through."

I froze—slowly turning to face her. "You were there? You were one of the ones that _left _ him?"

She flinched at my words, but had the decency to hold my gaze. "Yes. I take full responsibility for what happened—"

"And yet you felt no responsibility to notifying his family that he fell in the line of duty—an eighteen year old girl had to do that for you." My voice was low and dangerous sounding—my temper threatening to snap. "Were it not for Roza we never would have learned the truth—we would have spent years wondering what had happened to him… waiting for him to come home!"

"I realize that I should have—"

"What you _should _ have done was not left a man behind! It is one of the first lessons they teach us at Saint Basil's—not to leave the ones we fight beside to face death alone… or worse!" I sat down, jerking on a pair of sturdy boots, my hands trembling as I tied the laces. "My brother would say that you did the right thing that night—but as I told you… I am very different than he is. Dimitri is noble—I am not. I will not hold my tongue for fear of rudeness when it is partially _your_ fault that he is haunted by what he became."

I stood up, my eyes locking with hers—battling with the overwhelming urge to knock her off her feet. "I pray that you never experience what he did, Madam Petrov. I pray that you are confident in your actions that night—that your conscious is clear. But most of all… I pray the next time you lay your head on your pillow… you think about the fact that my brother's sleep will _never_ be peaceful again. Night after night he is tormented by the memory of the things he did as a Striogi—_that_ is what you did to him when you abandoned him. His soul is scarred _forever!"_

I brushed past her, not waiting for an answer. I stormed down the stairs, not trusting myself to remain in the same building she was in—the pain in my head was momentarily pushed aside by the intensity of my rage. Was I harsh? Yes—but it had to be said; her actions that night set a dangerous precedent for every novice in the school. Many of them would probably end up leaving a fallen guardian behind instead of trying to save them—because of what they had witnessed firsthand the night of the battle. I paced beside the vehicle, cursing under my breath, wondering why there wasn't some formal inquest conducted when a guardian lost their life—_especially _in a case like Dimitri's.

"I was there too—I am as much at fault as she is."

I glanced up, glaring at Emil—so intent on his words that I didn't even look at the man beside him "She is the head guardian. She failed Dimitri twice—once when she left him and then again when she couldn't be bothered to notify us he was gone."

"She cried when she boxed up his things, Miss Belikova; she has been storing them all this time—paying a fee for using the space out of her own pocket." He moved past me, walking around to slide behind the driver's seat. When we climbed in the back, his eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. "We all feel guilt about what happened to Dimitri… but Alberta… she suffers more than most."

His statement doused the heat of my anger; as it retreated I was suddenly hyper aware of the way my aching head pounded in time with the beating of my heart. My head dropped back against the high backed seat as I fought off a wave of nausea. "I will not apologize—I meant every word I said… but I will think on what you have told me and try to make peace with her."

"Tell me… are all the women in your family as outspoken as you are?"

"For the most part… yes. We speak what is on our minds and see no point in hiding what we feel. Why?

The older man chuckled as he put the car in gear, pulling away from the building. "I always wondered what it was that made a quiet, even tempered man like your brother fall in love with someone like Rose—you have given me the answer. He grew up surrounded by hot headed fiery women."

"Don't compare Viktoria to Rose Hathaway," Adrian snapped, glaring at the back of Emil's head. "They're nothing alike in the slightest."

"Oh? I was unaware you knew Guardian Hathaway well enough to determine that. Alberta told me you were new to Court… was she misinformed?" The guardian's tone was light and non-confrontational, but still, Adrian tensed beside me.

"He works for her father—you might say he has inside knowledge of some of the things Roza has done." I reached over, laying my hand on Adrian's knee, hoping to soothe him, then tried to steer the conversation to a less stressful topic. "Thank you for offering to show us the way. I am sure there are other things you would rather be doing right now."

"It is my pleasure—the only thing you are keeping me from is observing the sophomore class trying to master their roundhouse kicks." He turned off the main road onto a narrow gravel path; the trees were so close to the vehicle their branches scraped along the sides. "You saw him in the hallway, didn't you? That is what made you falter."

Adrian's hand found mine, squeezing it tightly—offering me the silent support that he somehow knew I needed. "Yes. Just a glimpse of him walking down a path. But there is more… I can feel it. It is sort of like an ever present ache that isn't easing up."

"That is why I offered to accompany you." His eyes found mine in the mirror again, holding the same look of wonder he'd worn back in the hall. "Your secret…it is a great gift… being able to see these things."

"Easy to say when you do not have to experience the agony that accompanies the visions," I murmured, leaning my forehead against the cool window. No sooner had the words left my lips then I felt the warm rush of Adrian's magic—and though I tried to jerk my hand away, he clung to it tightly. The building pressure inside me leveled out; it didn't completely disappear, but it became more manageable—a dull ache instead of a constant, overwhelming roar.

"Shh… just a little bit. To take the edge off," he murmured, giving me a lopsided smile.

I huffed, but stopped struggling, returning my head to the cool glass—watching as the trees grew closer and closer to the window as we moved further into the forest. It seemed to take forever to cross the broad, sprawling campus, but eventually Emil stopped the car, announcing we could drive no further. He led us through the trees for another mile or so until we reached a small, dirt path—the one I'd seen in the vision, superimposed over the hallway.

Emil pointed out the direction we should take—the path disappearing into a thick strand of trees—then pressed a small key chain in my hand. "It is just around the bend. Do you want me to come along or…?"

"No—thank you, but I think it needs to be just the two of us in order for it to work. We will be back… soon. You will be waiting, yes?"

"Of course—take your time. We are still inside the wards, so you will be safe on your own, but Alberta was right—we are close enough to the boundaries that I wouldn't want you wandering too far on your own." He moved, settling himself against the trunk of a nearby tree—his eyes flicking from me to Adrian. "You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette on you?"

"I…what?" Adrian did a double take, his eyes widening at the question.

"I can smell the lingering smoke on your clothing." Emil tapped the side of his nose, grinning. "I haven't had a cigarette in quite a while—I don't indulge often, but in this instance, it will make my wait a little more pleasurable."

"Uh, sure." Pulling out his pack, he handed over one of his cigarettes—they were thin and black, with a sweet scent that flavored his lips with clove. "Hang on.. I've got some matches somewhere…"

"No need—I have a lighter of my own. Thank you Guardian Johnson—funny… this is exactly the same brand as the last one I had. I bummed it off a Royal that was visiting the campus."

I grabbed Adrian's arm, moving down the path—calling back over my shoulder as I tugged him away. "We need to hurry… I feel… something."

"What kind of something?" Adrian's brow wrinkled with concern as he gazed down at me.

"Nothing," I whispered, glancing back at the Guardian, "I just wanted to get you away from him before he guessed who you were."

"Oh come on—I'm in disguise, remember? There's no way—"

"How do we know it isn't fading?" I brushed my fingers along the ring, frowning at the thought of him having to recharge it so soon. "Neither of us can see the illusion, Dusha—we see the reality. So what if it's fading more and more as the day goes on? What if they're seeing more of _you_ and less of Guardian Johnson?"

"Shit—you're right." He sighed, glancing over his shoulder; we were out of sight, turning the bend, so he slid it off his finger. "I'll recharge it once we get inside. Good thinking Angel."

I didn't respond—I'd caught sight of the cabin and was fighting back a wave of fear. "I can't believe I offered to do this."

"If you hadn't Yeva would have insisted on doing it herself. Can you imagine her making that hike?"

"Trust me—she could do it. She wouldn't even be out of breath, unlike some people I could name," I said wryly.

"Hey I've got a smoker's lungs! At least I managed to keep up!"

"That you did." I eyed the collection of keys on the small Saint Vladimir's chain; the first didn't work and neither did the second, but the third one turned smoothly, unlocking the door. "Guess it's now or never, huh?"

The first thing that hit me when we stepped inside was the staleness of the air. It wasn't that it was stuffy or hot, it just had that strange feeling a place often gets when no one has been there for a long period of time—a complete absence of life and activity, as if the space itself were longing for its owner's return. The cabin wasn't large by any means—just one central room with a single door that presumably led to a bathroom; there was a small kitchenette along the left wall, with a large fireplace dominating the central wall—which must have served to heat the cabin in the winter. On one side of the fireplace sat a narrow single bed and nightstand; on the opposite side was a small desk, very similar to the one I had in my novice dorm room back home. Except for the thin layer of dust covering everything, it was neat and tidy, with everything in its proper place—even the small bed was made, the covers pulled tautly over a couple of lumpy shaped pillows.

"What are we supposed to be doing here, Angel?" Adrian sank down on the bed, looking around the room.

"_We_ aren't doing anything—_I'm_ going to try and use the sight," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "You're here to help me if the pain gets too bad when I come out of it."

"No way—we can dream walk. Let me pull you in then—"

"You can't form a dream about something you've never imagined—and I can't explain what it is I'm trying to see because I have no idea what it will be. I'm not looking for the future… I'm going to try and see the _past. _ To find out what happened to my cousin."

"You can do that?" He sounded surprised, but I didn't take it personally, since up until the vision in the garden I hadn't known it was possible either.

"I think so—I got a glimpse of him earlier… he was walking through the forest on patrol." I sat down beside him, reaching for his hand. "That's what Emil was talking about in the car—my sight kicked in while we were walking down the hall. It hit so fast I had no chance to hide it from him."

"Do you think he'll say anything?"

"I hope not… but I can't let myself worry about it. It's out of my hands, you know?"

He sighed, reaching over to stroke my cheek. "I'm sorry. I should have hung back to help you."

"No… Yeva needed you more than I did. Perhaps Emil was meant to see… though I can't imagine why that would be." I leaned into his hand, smiling sadly. "Who can tell when it comes to fate? I never imagined I would willingly try to bring about a vision… but here we are, yes?

"If it looks like you're… I don't know—freaking out… I'm coming in after you ."

"I didn't think for a single moment that you'd do any differently, moy Dusha." I leaned over, brushing my mouth against his—allowing the press of his lips against mine to help me still my nerves. My eyes remained closed as I pulled back; I was trying to find my center—the same way I'd do if I was about to face an extremely good opponent on the mats in practice. I'd never tried to access my gift willingly—I'd always fought against it… right up until the moment when it grew so strong that it swept me away, leaving me no choice but to ride it out—praying that it would end quickly.

It happened far faster than I thought it would. One minute I was myself—aware of everything around me; the warm, comforting press of Adrian's hand in mine and the delicious scent that was so uniquely him made it hard for me to ignore the fact he was sitting right beside me on the bed. I was about to move further away from him when suddenly the cottage door was opening and the man I'd glimpsed superimposed over the hallway was hurrying inside—heading straight for the desk.

His face was hidden by shadows, but from time to time I glimpsed certain features like his dark, piercing eyes or the slightest hint of his full, sullen looking mouth. He sat down, his movements quick and precise as he pulled out a sheet of paper and began writing something down on it—though once he paused, burying his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking as he began to cry. The urge to comfort him was eating away at my insides—he seemed so… broken… like he'd lost the will to live—but I knew that even if I moved from where I sat, I wouldn't be able to help him; the emotions I was sensing were nothing more than a memory of what had been, so soft words or a gentle touch would do nothing to relieve his pain. Wiping his eyes on the back of the hand, he returned his attention to his writing—folding the paper and sliding it in an envelope, then scrawling something on the front. He moved towards me, pulling open the top drawer of the nightstand—removing a small, leather bound book and hiding the envelope away somewhere inside it. His dark eyes closed as he whispered something; it was too faint for me to hear but somehow I _knew_ what the hushed words had been—he'd said, 'God forgive me'. I watched as his large hand moved to hover over a small gold trinket on the nightstand—and then it all disappeared.

My eyes shot open, immediately flicking to the drawer; I jerked my hand free from Adrian's—moving without conscious thought.

"Angel? You okay? What did you—"

"This," I whispered, pulling out the book. My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages; the envelope I'd seen was there, halfway through the book—the large block letters on the front spelling out my brother's name. "I thought it would be addressed to Yeva… but it's for Dimitri," I murmured, tracing my fingers across the writing.

"Don't open it—let your grandmother do it. Whatever's in there might be something your brother doesn't want you to see." The mattress shifted as he moved to examine the drawers contents, pulling out another book and thumbing through the pages. "There's more books in here—I think they're journals. God… there must be two dozen of them." He set the book aside, opening the remaining drawer, then whistled. "Double that—there's more of them in here. Your cousin must have been pretty serious about recording his thoughts for posterity."

A shiver danced down my spine as I glanced at the stacks of books. "We'll take them back with us."

"Why? They're just—"

"I don't know… I just get the feeling we need to." I closed the book I was holding, leaving the envelope in its hiding place. "You're right though… about grandmother opening it—that way if Mitya gets upset, he can take it up with her and not me."

"That's what I was thinking—I don't want you fighting with him… I don't like you being upset." He began pulling the books out of the drawers, stacking them on the bed beside me. "Anything else you think we should take?"

I glanced around, looking for the small gold trinket I'd seen in the vision. "Yes… but I don't see it anywhere. It's a box—well…not a box exactly… it's round and gold, with hinges on the back."

"Like an old fashioned music box? My aunt collected those—the kind you wind with a key?"

"Yes! That's exactly what it looked like!" I stood up, moving to the desk to begin searching through its drawers. "He reached for it right before the vision faded… I got the sense it was important to him for some reason."

"Maybe it's like… a family heirloom or something?"

"I don't think so—it looked very expensive." I sat back on my heels, sighing as I shut the bottom drawer. "According to Yeva all our heirlooms are small things that are mostly handmade—like your ring."

He stopped working, turning to look at me with wide, surprised eyes. "You're not afraid I'll lose it? Something like that… it's irreplaceable, Angel—I'm not known for being overly responsible. I lose my keys at least twice a week."

"It was meant for you—Yeva said it was a gift for my tom cat." I felt my cheeks flush as I averted my eyes, embarrassed by the significance; he might not realize it was meant to be a wedding band, but I certainly did, though in my defense— I hadn't known it at first. "She said her grandmother had seen what would be needed and passed it down to her. She gave it to me the night of the party, just a few hours before we met. All this time she saved it, waiting for the right moment."

"That's why she kept staring at it when we were at the café, isn't it?" He pulled the ring out of his pocket, gazing down at it with a look of awe on his face. "It's amazing to think that she's known we would meet for so long, don't you think?"

"Even more amazing is the fact my great grandmother knew—she died before my mama was born." I walked into the small kitchen, checking the cabinets—just to be sure Savva hadn't hidden the music box away in the least likely place.

"It's more than just a ring… isn't it?"

His soft question made my shoulders tense; I didn't want to lie to him—but I also didn't want him thinking I was reading more into him wearing it, or that I expected anything in return. " I think so… I believe it was my great grandfather's wedding band. If my grandfather had lived… he would have worn it before you."

He didn't say anything; I was afraid to turn and face him. It was silly, but I had the childish feeling that if I just didn't look, everything would be okay. "If that makes you uncomfortable… we'll find another ring. Or maybe a silver chain would work… if you want to keep up the disguise." I closed my eyes when I heard him move—afraid he was going to return the ring right then and there, not wanting any part of what accepting it might mean.

"You're jumping to conclusions again," he murmured, his arms sliding around me from behind. "I can't promise you anything more than today, Angel… but I can tell you that I'm honored to wear your ring."

"It's your ring," I whispered softly. "Even if you walked away right now. It was meant for _you_, Dusha… I would never take it back." I sighed, leaning back against the solid warmth of his body, feeling a surge of relief that he didn't seem the slightest bit put out. "I'm sorry… I should have said something about the ring. I honestly didn't know at first—"

"Shhh—it's okay. Hell, I suppose I knew deep down that it had to be important to you, otherwise you wouldn't have been wearing it around on a chain. It's funny…" his voice trailed off, lips brushing against my neck, "when I first picked it up off the floor… it felt almost warm in my hand. I know that sounds stupid—"

"No—" I turned around, surprised at what he'd said. "I felt it too. Only it was like a tingle for me… I could feel it in my head. The night I came to see you… I felt like I _ had_ to wear it."

"Same thing I felt when I took your hand that night—of course… that was after half a bottle of whiskey, so I could have been imagining things."

"Or it could be fate," I offered, giving him a teasing smile.

"I never put much faith in fate or destiny before, not really. But all this… it just might make a believer out of me." He returned my teasing smile with one of his own, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Whatever this is… it feels good."

"Despite the fact I'm the sister of your mortal enemy?" I forced myself to keep my tone light—not wanting him to feel like I was pushing things. I knew he and Dimitri wouldn't become friends overnight—there was too much trouble in their past and too much animosity between them—but I held on to the hope that one day the two men would be able to at least be in the same room without threats of bloodshed.

An expression of surprise flickered across his face as he thought about what I'd said. "Usually when I think about him… about what happened with Rose… I feel like I can't breathe, you know? Like an elephant is sitting on my chest, crushing my lungs. It still hurts… but not like before. I can even admit that it was more _her_ fault than his; Rose isn't one to take no for an answer when she sets her mind on something—and she's pretty hard to resist. I still hate what he did… but I don't think I hate _him_ anymore."

"That's good. Maybe Yeva is right… the wounds are starting to heal." I didn't ask if he still felt enraged at Roza—for me it was enough that his anger towards my brother was dimming; discussing whether or not his love/hate feelings towards his ex had changed could wait for another day. "Now if we can just make Dimitri see reason, you won't have to hide who you are from him."

"Tired of Guardian Johnson already?" He smiled, pulling away—moving back to the books on the bed.

"How can I be tired of a man I cannot see? It's just that… if we meet my family for a meal… I want to know that they're looking at _you_ and recognizing the good, kind man you are. I want them to know you the way I do—to see the real you that you hide away the mask you wear at Court."

"I don't—"

"You do. Everyone does, Dusha—it's only natural. We hide who we really are from the world, showing others what we think they expect to see. We bury the things we think they won't accept or understand—for me it's hiding away my temper and my visions…it's reining in my outspokenness and ignoring the things I really want in favor of what everyone presumes. I'm expected to be the sweet, polite youngest daughter—my family's docile little declawed kitten…so that is what I show people. I hide away my true self because I know they could never accept the _real _ me."

"And what is it you think I hide behind?"

"That's easy—your reputation. You let everyone see the irresponsible party boy—you would rather they believe you're a spoiled aristocrat with an alcohol problem than to have them know that your mind is plagued by Spirit. You hide the sensitive, caring man you are, letting them believe the worst." My voice was as soft as his; it was hard to express what I was trying to say since I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Because when I finally trusted someone enough to let them see the real me… I wasn't good enough," he mumbled, turning back towards the bed. "She said I was a victim—but I know what she really meant. I'm a loser…not worth her precious time."

"You _were_ good enough… she just wasn't smart enough to realize how lucky she was to have your love. In the end, she was the real loser, Dusha—because she had a priceless, wonderful treasure in her hands and she let it slip right through her fingers." I was walking on a slippery slope—he knew by now that I had my brother on a pedestal, set higher than any other man; Dimitri was a treasure too—just a completely different kind.

When he didn't respond, I moved toward the bathroom; it was the only place I hadn't searched—that was when he whispered. It was as soft as a sigh but still I heard it—and recognized it as a prayer.

"Please… let me be good enough this time… for _her._"

I said nothing—after all, it wasn't me he was talking to; I just whispered a prayer of my own—that somehow I'd be able to make him see his true worth, giving him back everything that Roza had stripped away so carelessly.

The music box wasn't in the bathroom; I really hadn't thought it would be there—the only reason I'd wasted my time looking was in the interest of being thorough. "It's not in there either."

"Maybe a student made off with it—could have broken in to have an after curfew party and took it as a souvenir."

"The door was locked though—and there's no sign of forced entry." It was another unanswered question to add to the growing list in my mind. I sighed, rubbing my temples, frustrated at having hit a dead end. "I'm beginning to feel like the teenage detective in the mysteries that my sisters use to read all the time—only she always managed to solve the puzzle by the end of the stupid book. I just keep ending up with more unanswered questions."

"Is your head hurting?" He reached for me, thinking my gesture was one of pain instead of one of stress. "Do I need to—"

"No—I'm okay." It rolled off my tongue automatically as I evaded his hand—and to my immense surprise, I realized that my answer was actually the truth. "I actually feel better—the pain is totally gone."

"And before? How bad was it—honestly?"

"Pretty bad," I admitted. "If it was just a headache I could handle it—it's the pressure that gets to me… it gets so bad that it feels like my head is in a vice."

His forehead crinkled, a speculative look crossing his face; I saw something flicker in his eyes before he dropped his gaze to the floor. "What? What's with the look?"

"It's nothing really… just a thought I had. Forget about it—"

"Uh uh—no way. You can't just make that face and expect me to dismiss the whole thing. " I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling at him. "Start talking."

"I think I know the feeling you're describing. Sometimes… right before things go haywire in my head… I feel sort of… overflowing. Like I'm going to explode if I don't use Spirit—that's when things go all off kilter." He shrugged, still not looking at me. "It's interesting that you feel something similar with your visions."

"Did my aura go all funny again?" I asked, unable to keep the worry I felt from coloring my words.

"Dunno—I didn't look." He glanced up at me, his lips curving in a sheepish grin. "I was too worried about what you were doing to think about checking it."

"You're not just saying that so I won't freak out?" I chewed at my bottom lip, trying to fight back the panic I felt fluttering in my stomach.

"If there was a bible here I'd swear on it. Suppose I'll have to make do." He scooped up one of the journals, resting his palm on it as he cleared his throat dramatically. "I solemnly swear on the words of your cousin that I have no clue what your aura did. There… believe me now?"

I giggled at how serious he looked—his comical routine had eased back the panic—for the moment, at least. "You see there? That's another thing you hide away. You're not only funny… but you have a way of soothing people's minds and making them forget their worries."

"Yeah except for the people who worry about what I'm up to." He tossed the book down, reaching for one of the pillows, stripping it of its case. "My mother use to be like that—every time I called her the first thing out of her mouth was to ask if I was in trouble."

"She doesn't do it anymore?" I arched a brow as I watched him remove the second pillow case; he began loading the journals into them—but he didn't divide them evenly; there were far more books going into the second one—the first one was almost empty.

"Oh I'm sure she would if I talked to her. I can't—she's in jail for plotting against my aunt and no one will tell me where she's locked up." He tried to sound matter of fact but the pain in his voice was as obvious as the tension in his jaw.

"But… that's not right. If you want to talk to her she should be allowed to call—or you should be able to see her on the days they allow visitors. It's not like she was the one who actually killed Queen Tatiana." I moved forward, laying my palm against his back. "Can't you ask Lissa or—"

"I have—she claims she doesn't know where mom is. I could push her to find out… but I don't want to add to her stress—I know what that can do to a person." There was a yearning in his tone that betrayed him; he was sparring Lissa's mind, but at a great personal cost to himself.

"The Guardian Council would know, yes? They are the ones that would've arranged her transport." There was a thought brewing in my head—one that was dangerous, and could end up costing me dearly—since I couldn't pull it off alone. "You _do_ want to see her, right?"

"Of course I do—she's my mother. She may not be a very good one… but she tried her best. Some women just aren't maternal." He shrugged, turning to face me, his eyes widening as they locked on my face. "Whatever you're thinking… no."

"You don't get to tell me 'no', Adrian Ivashkov. You aren't the boss of me." I gave him a look, pointedly averting my eyes to the pillowcases. "That was a very smart idea… using the pillowcases."

He grabbed my arm, trying to make me look at him; I closed my eyes so I wouldn't be swayed to give in by the anxious look on his face. "Don't try and change the subject Angel. What are you—"

"Whatever I am thinking cannot be accomplished in the middle of the Montana woods … so relax. It's just an idea… I don't even know if it would work. Once I've thought it out more, I promise I'll let you in on it, okay?" It wasn't a fib—not really. I _would _ tell him the idea…I just wouldn't tell him all the nitty gritty details—if I did he would end up balking and pitch a fit, determined to stop me.

"Tell me _now_ —I mean it Viktoria. The expression on your face scares the hell out of me—it's like the look Rose gets when she's planning something completely reckless and stupid."

"It's not reckless—and I am _not_ Roza! I don't… how do you say it? Go off halfcocked!" I huffed, irritated at the comparison. "I happen to be an expert at sneaking in places I'm not supposed to be. At school I'm the one people come to when they want to get back the things that the dorm matrons have confiscated—and my sophomore year I broke into the headmasters office after curfew and moved every single piece of furniture outside into the quad. They _still_ don't know who did it—I am _that_ good. One of the things my grandmother taught me was how to move about unseen and undetected—and if you ask her, she will tell you that I was a very apt pupil!"

"Vika—"

"Like I said… it's just an idea. I can't do something of that magnitude without proper preparations. Besides… you forget—I'm a visiting novice. If I get caught I can claim it was a harmless prank—I could tell them that as soon as my classmates heard I was going to Court, they dared me to break in and bring something back as proof—an act to show how brave and skillful Saint Basil's novices are."

"Are you actually standing there and telling me you would willingly break into the _guardian's headquarters_ to find out where my mom is?" He spoke slowly, enunciating each word, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes—what's the big deal?"

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get in? They could lock you up for shit like that—"

"Are you always this over dramatic Dusha?" It was really rather adorable to see him so concerned over something I hadn't even _done_ yet.

"Over dramatic? It would be putting your entire future on the line!" He shot me an exasperated look, running his fingers through his hair; I was beginning to realize it was a nervous quirk of his—one that was quite endearing.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just told you I already have an excuse. It's not like they have a reason to doubt my word—right?"

He made a sound of disbelief, shaking his head. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do that?

"Because you want to see your mother," I said, simply. "You _need_ to see her—that's enough of a reason for me."

He stared at me, open mouthed—completely shocked at what I'd said.

"Is that really so hard to belie—"

He moved so fast it startled me, reaching out and grabbing my arms; his mouth smashed down on mine—so hard that our teeth scraped as he pulled me flush up against his body. His kiss was full of hungry passion and need—so intense that it made my knees weak; my body flare to life—instantly I felt flushed and achy, wanting to feel his skin pressed against mine without anything between us. My hands moved, sliding under his shirt as his fingers dug into my waist; before I knew it, we were falling backwards, collapsing across the bed. My legs wrapped around his hips automatically as our bodies rocked against each other—trying to fuse together, but unable to breach the barrier of our clothing.

His hands moved up, fingertips hooking the hem of my t-shirt—tugging it up so his lips could dance along the lacy cups of my bra. I moaned softly in response—arching up to encourage him as his palms slid over my breasts, gently massaging them. He changed the rhythm of his hips—teasing me; each thrust was slow and languorous—the movement of his hardness against me pressed the seam of my jeans taught against my body, leaving me quivering and begging him for more. I _needed_ him to move faster, but he didn't—he chuckled against my lips in response to my soft pleas. Frustrated, I locked my leg around his thigh, my hands dropping to his shoulders and I flipped us over—pinning his hands to the bed. He bucked up against me in response—his loud moan indicating my initiative pleased him.

"Do you like that moy Dusha?" I whispered as I trailed my lips along his jaw, speeding the movement of my hips as I hovered over him. "Do you like my taking charge?"

He gasped as I gently grazed his neck with my teeth, then moaned again when I gently bit down. "Holy fuck—that feels amazing."

"Wait until I work my way lower," I whispered, releasing one of his hands so I could tug his zipper down. "I want to taste you the same way you tasted me."

He thrust up against me again, groaning. "You don't have to—"

The sound of the wooden porch creaking froze us both in mid-motion; It could only be one thing—Emil coming to see what was taking us so long. Adrian moved so fast that we almost fell to the floor—sliding out from under me as I tugged down my shirt—both of us trying to trying to slow our breathing and act like nothing was wrong. He pulled up his zipper, crossing the room in three strides to crack open the door and peer outside—cursing softly at whatever it was he saw outside… and at that moment, I suddenly realized it could be something much, _much _worse than Emil. In an instant, I went on the alert; I launched myself up off the bed and sprinted across the room— shoving him aside to slam the door and lock it. Adrenaline was shooting through me, setting off a natural fight or flight response—though for me, flight was not an option. I would fight to my dying breath to protect the man beside me.

"How many?" I whispered. He stared at me, not answering—something flickering across his face that I didn't understand. "Adrian! How many of them are there?"

"I only saw one—"

"Look for something I can use as a weapon—" I braced my back against the door, eyes darting around the cabin. "The fireplace poker—grab it for me, then go into the bathroom and don't come out, no matter what you hear."

"Angel—"

"Don't you dare fucking argue with me," I whispered fiercely; my body was tense, waiting for the door to stark shaking any second. "If you care about me at all you will do what I say—this is what I've spent my whole life training to do!"

"Are there an overabundance of raccoon attacks at Saint Basil's? Cause around here… they're usually pretty timid."

"Stop arguing and…what?"

"It's a raccoon, sweetheart—a pretty big one… but I don't think he wants to eat me." His lips twitched up as he watched me trying to process what he'd said. "But thank you for protecting me from it."

"It's not…" I slumped against the door, still quivering from the adrenaline rush that was surging through my body. "I thought it was a Strigoi."

"Yeah… your reaction kind of telegraphed that loud and clear." He stepped closer, pulling me away from the door to cradle me against his chest. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to scare you."

"When I heard you curse I thought… never mind." I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, my heart still racing. "I wasn't scared… well I was, but not for me. I don't have a stake… I wasn't sure if I could keep you safe."

He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to meet his eye. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met Viktoria Belikova."

"I don't feel particularly amazing right now," I murmured, "considering I just made a complete jackass out of myself."

"Bullshit. You were willing to take on a _Strigoi_ with a fucking half assed weapon to protect my lousy ass."

"But it wasn't a Strigoi. It was just a stupid—"

The press of his lips silenced me, but the kiss was far too brief. "As much as I hate to say it… we need to get back. It was dangerous letting ourselves get carried away like that. Especially being so close to the wards… they've already been breached once—and we both know how that turned out."

I closed my eyes, sighing. "You're right…"

"Why do I sense a 'but' coming?" He teased, his voice soft as he pulled away from me.

"But I really want to kill that stupid raccoon for interrupting us."

"That makes two of us—trust me. I'm going to have trouble walking back to the car."

Worry flooded through me—had I shoved him aside too hard? "Did I hurt you? Let me see—"

"No—you didn't," he chuckled softly, capturing my hand and moving it to his crotch. "Do they have the phrase 'blue balls' in Russia?"

"Oh!" I smiled, pressing my palm around his obvious arousal. "I could always sneak into your room later—after grandmother is asleep."

He groaned, his hips arching forward. "Somehow I don't think she'd care if you walked out while she was wide awake—but you've got a deal, either way."

I stretched up, kissing his cheek, then moved to the bed, reaching for the heavier of the two loaded pillowcases. "Like I said before… this was an excellent idea."

"That one's mine," he said, scooping it up before I could grab it.

"Why? Because you're the man? Never mind the fact I'm probably stronger that you are, right?"

"Ah—but I'm supposed to be a dhampir too, remember? Gotta keep up appearances, Angel."

I huffed, picking up the lighter pillowcase and throwing it over my shoulder like a knapsack. "I cannot argue with your logic—but that doesn't mean I like it."

He winked at me, smacking me on the ass as he walked towards the door. "That's a good thing—a refreshing change after being with a woman who argued even when she knew she was dead wrong."

"Wait—" I reached out, laying my palm against the door, preventing him from opening it. "The ring—"

"Oh shit—glad you remembered." He set the pillowcase down, pulling out the ring and clenching it in his palm; I sighed as I felt his power brush along my skin.

"What does it feel like? When I use it?" He slid the ring on, smiling at the sound of pleasure I made.

"It's hard to explain…like your warm lips dancing along my skin mixed in with the comforting press of your hand holding mine. It's a feeling of contentment, but there's a hint of pleasure too."

"Interesting… It doesn't feel that way for me when Lissa or Sonya use their Spirit. I can tell when their pulling on it, but it's more a mental thing."

"It's not like that for me when other Spirit users do it—when Lissa or Oksa uses it… my skin crawls. It's like insects are swarming over me."

"Maybe it's because I'm so charming that even my element sweeps you off your feet," He teased, stooping to reclaim his bundle; he swayed a little as he stood, a grimace replacing his flirtatious smile.

"You okay?"

"Just tired. I think I need a nap when we get back… to prepare for our midnight rendezvous. The last few days have been a little—"

"Chaotic?"

"I was going to say busy," he said, leaning over to brush a feather light kiss across my lips, "but well worth it."

"You might change your mind about that before we get back to Court. A few days with Yeva could drive anyone up the wall."

"Nope—my mind is already made up, and I'm not changing it. Besides… a few days with you more than makes up for your grandmother bossing me around—and I don't even mind that. I like her—she's a pretty cool lady."

I chuckled softly as we stepped outside, turning to lock the door behind us. "Cool? I could think of a few words a little more accurate. Cantankerous. Temperamental. Bitchy, even."

"That's all part of her charm. She's like her granddaughter—she cuts through the bullshit and speaks her mind."

"Where do you think I learned it from?"

We fell into companionable silence as we headed back to where we'd left Emil; as we walked and I took in our surroundings, I felt a strange sense of…. Well, for lack of a better word… peace. Despite the fact I hated Saint Vladimir's for what had happened to Dimitri while he was there, it was easy to see why he chose to overlook what had happened to him on the night of the battle and to focus on the fond memories of the time he'd spent on the campus instead. The natural beauty of the grounds was breathtaking; the air was clear, and the forest itself was untouched by humanity. Of course, it was where he'd fallen in love, so that certainly played into the equation too. I could easily imagine him patrolling the woods, enjoying the simple pleasure of the solitude and silence as he replayed the conversations he'd had with Roza throughout the day or relieved the tiny things like having the chance to hold her hand.

I didn't realize my hand had automatically slipped into Adrian's as we walked…not until we rounded the bend and Emil spotted us—his eyes dropping down to our entwined fingers as his lips curved upward in a small smile. Immediately I increased the distance between us, letting go of Adrian's hand as I fumbled for an excuse.

"We… uh… were just—"

"Being young and enjoying a stroll in the woods? No harm in that." The guardian winked, pushing away from the tree he'd been leaning against. "Did you find what you came for?"

"My cousin's journals—we thought my grandmother might like them." I gestured to the pillowcase I held before handing him back the key ring, then glanced back in the direction of the cabin. "I suppose before we go back to Court I'll need to return and box up his things so we can ship them home."

"I can arrange to have that done for you—while you are here you should take advantage of trying your skills against our novices instead of burdening yourself with sad tasks."

"I'd appreciate that very much—and I will contact Dimitri and let him know his belongings need to be collected. Guardian Petrov should not have to be burdened with the cost of storing them now that he's alive again."

"She would not see it as a burden, I assure you." He gestured for us to precede him up the trail, falling back to cover the rear. "Once we are further from the wards I will resume the lead, but for now, just try to stay on the trail and not wander—"

His voice died off abruptly, a low chuckle taking its place. I glanced back over my shoulder to find him frozen on the trail, staring at us with amusement. "Is everything alright?"

"Hmmm… oh yes. I just…" he chuckled again—then broke out in a full on laugh, rubbing his hand across his face. "The cabin was a little dirty?"

I glanced over at Adrian, bewildered by the question. "It wasn't messy… just a little dusty, why?"

"I would suggest you wipe off your backsides before we get in the car—you are both covered in dust from the top of your heads to your feet."

I widened my eyes as my cheeks heated—obviously he could tell exactly what we'd been doing. "We had to search for something—very thoroughly. That is how we got all dirty."

"And yet your front sides are remarkably clean." Emil snorted, trying to contain his amusement. "I was young once, Miss Belikova. I may be old now, but I am not a fool."

"She started it—she can't keep her hands to herself." Adrian's lips twitched up in smug grin; I elbowed him in the ribs, huffing as I turned and stormed down the trail.

"Is she always so… mercurial?" I heard Emil ask as they followed after me.

"Beats me—I've only known her three days, though it feels like a hell of a lot longer. My gut instinct is yes—but that's not a bad thing. It keeps a man on his toes—she's a firecracker."

"I can see that… bright, beautiful and prone to loud outbursts."

"Less talking and more walking gentlemen," I called back over my shoulder—glad they couldn't see the embarrassed flush on my cheeks. Increasing my pace to almost a jog, I smiled at the sounds of protest they made; if they had to focus on keeping up with me, there would be considerably less conversation between the two of them—and since they were discussing me… that would be a very good thing indeed.

* * *

**_A/N _** _Okay—this was supposed to be the chapter with Alto… but as I entered my hand written notes, Vika and Adrian kept going rogue and expanding it, until it ended up being almost 34,500 words. That's way too much—even for me—so I split it into three chapters, all of which I am posting at once. So today you get three updates instead of just one. Hope you enjoy it… especially Ch 15. ;o)_

_1/1/2015: Edited to fix formatting since likes to screw it up -.-_

_Thanks to those of you who pmed me pointing it out—I had no idea it had run things together like that._


	14. Chapter 14: Evincement

_Dear Diary,_

_We arrived back at our lodgings just as the doctor was leaving. Emil introduced her as Izolda Olendzki, and she seemed like a really nice person; she was very friendly, smiling warmly as she shook my hand. It did not surprise me that she was a Moroi; medical school is expensive—far beyond a dhampir's meager means, no matter how much they might want to achieve such a goal. That is something I have heard my mother lament more than once—it has always made me wonder if a career in medicine was an aspiration she'd had but been unable to achieve. Perhaps that is why she ended up becoming a midwife—it was the closest she could ever hope to get to that long lost dream. _

_Dr. __Olendzki told me not to worry—that Yeva would be just fine. She'd given her an injection to take away the worst of her pain—one that might make her groggy and unresponsive._

"Once it kicks in she'll probably sleep for ten to twelve hours—just keep an eye on her and make sure her breathing doesn't become labored. If it does—"she pressed a card into my hand, "call me—I wrote the direct number to my room on the back. I don't care how late it is—I'm usually up working on research."

"Yes ma'am."

She patted me on the shoulder, giving me a sympathetic smile. "Alberta told me you suffer from headaches so I left you a packet of pills on the desk—it's nothing too strong, just a mild form of hydrocodone in case the pain gets too bad. It might make you a little nauseated, so try to eat something before you take it, even if it's just a piece of bread, alright?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yes…thank you. I appreciate your kindness, and thank you for helping my grandmother. Sometimes at night she suffers terribly from aches in her joints."

"Arthritis is a horrible thing—before you leave if you stop off at the clinic, I'll write out a few herbal remedies she might want to try. They won't do anything for the pain per say, but they'll ease the inflammation that causes it."

"I will certainly do that. Thank you again—"

She waved off my thanks, laughing softly. "Think nothing of it—it's what I'm here for. I hope your head feels better soon. If it doesn't—"

"Call you?" I guessed, glancing down at the card.

"Exactly. Have a good night Miss Belikova—and welcome to Saint Vlad's."

"She is very nice," I murmured, watching her walk down the hall.

Adrian nodded. "She is—she helped me out a few times when I was here. She has a herbal hangover remedy that actually works."

"You were here before? When?"

We both glanced over at Emil—he'd moved to stand against the wall, so silent I'd forgotten he was there. Adrian frowned, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "When Mr. Mazur came to watch his daughter compete in the trials. I was in his entourage."

"I knew something about you seemed familiar." Emil nodded, stepping away from the wall. "Well, as enjoyable as it has been, I am afraid I must be off too—I have a patrol starting in a few minutes. Miss Belikova, I'll probably see you tomorrow at some point in the gym?"

"Yes sir—I will be sitting in on some classes tomorrow… and please… call me Vika."

"Vika it is. Johnson—perhaps we can spar before you return to court. Any man who works for Zmey is sure to be a challenge on the mats." He winked at us, inclining his head in a small bow before he turned away; we both stared after him, more than a little worried by what he'd said.

"Well shit," Adrian muttered, as soon as the guardian was out of earshot. "He'll pulverize me."

I reached down and caught his hand, squeezing it reassuringly as we closed the short distance to the room. "No he won't—I'll think of some excuse. Don't worry. I don't want anyone messing up your face."

As soon as we entered the room, Adrian made a beeline for Yeva—bending down to whisper in her ear, his handsome face creased with worry. I felt the same way at the sight of her—she looked wan and almost frail, making me wonder if Doctor Olendzki had given her the wrong medication. I moved to join him, but Alberta touched my arm; her face was expressionless, but her eyes were full of something I could not read—the emotions in them were turbulent and churning, like an angry storm cloud.

"Viktoria, may I speak to you for a moment? Please?"

I nodded, stepping back out into the hall but leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on Yeva; Alberta leaned against the wall, but before she could speak, I swallowed my pride—knowing in my heart that it was what my brother would want me to do. "Madam Petrov… I am very sorry for my rude behavior. I have no excuse for it other than the shock of hearing about my cousin and then finding out you were there the night Dimitri… went away. You did not deserve the things I said—Emil told me of your kindness…saving Dimitri's things at your own expense… so I also owe you my thanks. Not just for that, but for watching over my grandmother for me as well."

Her shoulders sagged as I spoke, relief evident on her face. "Thank you—but I don't deserve your apology, Victoria. Every single thing you said to me is something I've thought about myself at least once a day since the night we lost him. Your brother… he is very special to me. I've always had a maternal feeling for him—and for Rose too. To see her hurting the way she did… and to know that he'd become something he hated… it was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to tell you that…" she tightened her lips, glancing through the open doorway, "and to discuss Guardian Johnson as well."

"Guardian Johnson? Why?" I tensed, wondering if she'd figured out the truth—praying that she hadn't.

"He's very attentive to your grandmother, isn't he? Almost as if she were his grandmother too."

"My grandmother is a very hard woman to get along with. There are few people she actually likes—so when she meets someone that she thinks is worthy, she bonds with them rather quickly. He is a gentleman and is worried about her—neither of which are bad things."

"Your brother asked me to watch over you while you were on campus… to make sure that Guardian Johnson didn't… take advantage of your friendship."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Madam—let me fill you in on something about my brother you might have missed. He is extremely overprotective. Before his restoration, the last time Dimitri and I actually spent any time together was when he was eighteen years old—I was ten at the time, and he can't seem to get it through his thick skull that I am no longer the little girl he used to know. I am eighteen years old—a legal adult in this country as well as my own, so what I do is my business and no one else's."

"Your grandmother said you were sweethearts—is that true?"

I closed my eyes, groaning. "My grandmother needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut."

"I'll take that as a yes—I assume Dimitri doesn't know?"

"May I be blunt? A few days ago… he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of grain in the middle of a formal party for the queen and carted me off to my room just for kissing a boy—so tell me, what do you think?"

Her lips twitched up at the corners. "He did not—really?"

"He did. He later returned to make sure I was alone, searching the apartment and even leaning out the window to make sure I did not have a mystery lover hanging from the ledge."

"Was there someone there?"

"There was not—I had been asleep before he pounded on the door, startling me out of my wits."

"Was it Johnson? The boy you kissed?" The lip twitch had become a full out grin.

"No… it was someone else. Someone my brother does not like—though I did not know it at the time." I averted my eyes, not wanting her to sense the fib since Johnson and Adrian were one in the same.

"But… Dimitri gets along with everyone—he even got along with Stan Alto, who happens to be a first class jerk. I can't imagine he would…" her voice trailed off, her eyes narrowing. "Was it a Moroi or a dhampir?"

"Your interest in my love life is starting to disturb me." I crossed my arms over my chest, giving her a pointed look. "Don't you think all these questions are highly inappropriate?"

"Humor me—I told you I have maternal feelings for your brother, so just assume they extend to you as well. And you can stop scowling at me—that never worked when Rose did it so it's certainly not going to work for you. Answer the question please."

"It was a Moroi—Lord Adrian Ivashkov. My brother forbid me to have any further contact with him."

"Ah. Well… at least now I can understand why Dimitri might have a problem with the situation." She sighed, shaking her head. "Viktoria, I'm not going to police your behavior while you are here or tell you what to do—you're eighteen, that's old enough to make your own decisions. The only thing I'm going to say is this; that man in there obviously cares about your grandmother, and he cares about you too—I could tell in the car this morning by the way he looked at you. He's related to Ivashkov—in fact, that's exactly who I was thinking of earlier when I met him on the landing strip. There are a lot of physical similarities between them—just make sure you're not just involving yourself with Johnson because he reminds you of Adrian, alright?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. For once someone was actually worried about _Adrian _ getting hurt—albeit in a roundabout—not realizing it was him—sort of way. "I swear to you I will not hurt him, alright? Besides… we've only known each other a few days—it's not like we're serious or anything."

"You might want to tell your grandmother that—to hear her tell it you're practically walking down the aisle." She smiled, jerking her head towards the door. "Go on—I've taken up enough of your time. Just think about what I said kiddo."

"I will—thank you." I started to walk inside, but paused on the threshold, glancing back at her, frowning. "Guardian Petrov… do you like Adrian? As a person, I mean."

"Adrian Ivashkov is a wonderful man—misunderstood and a bit of a mess at times, but he's kind and compassionate and he cares about his friends. I don't know if you're aware of why your brother dislikes him—and it's not my place to tell you—but I think under different circumstances… Dimitri and Adrian could have eventually become friends."

"I know about Roza… Adrian told me." I bit my lip, feeling tears prick my eyes. "I think he is wonderful too… but he's hurting… and no one seems to care."

"I care. I've always had a soft spot for him—no matter how much he tried my patience when he was here." She reached out, squeezing my shoulder. "Vika… let Johnson down easy. He seems like a great guy… but the look on your face right now… he's already out of the running. That must have been one hell of a kiss."

"It was… it was magical." I smiled as I remembered it—and I knew it was a goofy, dreamy smile, but I didn't care. "That is… until Dimitri pulled us apart and started acting like a cave man."

"Viktoria?"

The sound of my grandmother's voice, pulled my head around; she was struggling to sit up, pushing Adrian's hands away as he tried to make her lay back down. "I have to go—Yeva needs me."

"If you need to talk more before you leave… my door is always open."

"Thank you—and I really am sorry I acted like such a little bitch earlier."

"Trust me—that wasn't bitchy. Remember—I'm the one who practically raised Rose."

I shut the door as she left, hurrying to Yeva's side. She huffed, scowling up at us, her irritation quite obvious. "I am fine—I was play acting to get rid of them for God's sake!"

"You—what?" Adrian did a double take, returning her scowl with one of her own. "I was really worried about you—that's not cool."

"It wasn't all an act—just some of it. I have pain—but that is nothing new. I am well enough to sit up. You two are acting like I have one foot in the grave." She held out her hand, shaking it as she looked up at him expectantly. "Well? Help me sit up boy! I'm an old woman in need of assistance."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked, then moved to grab the blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed, draping it around her shoulders. "When my aunt's arthritis acted up she said being warm helped a little."

"You are a good boy Adrian—I appreciate your concern." She reached up, patting his cheek—then her eyes flicked to me. "Did it work?"

"Of course it did." It irritated me that she didn't have more faith in my abilities.

"You needn't be flippant—I had good reason to wonder if it was beyond you. I could not direct the sight until I was twenty and it was another five years before I could see the past."

"She's advanced," Adrian offered, grinning at her outburst.

"I _told_ you I've done it before—seen the past I mean. It happened today in the hallway and also when we took you to the garden." I shot back—only realizing too late exactly what I'd let slip.

Adrian's eyes turned to me, wide and full of hope as he processed what I'd said. "You saw the past? Was it my aunt?"

I dropped my eyes, my heart aching at the look on his face. "Yes… it was."

"What did you see?"

"Adrian… not right now—I'll tell you later. Please—"

"Damn it Viktoria—I have a right to know! I've been trying to see her in my dreams for months, but I can't even conjure up an illusion of her!"

"I don't want to cause you pain, Dusha… it wasn't a pleasant sort of vision."

His mouth set in a thin, angry line. "I don't give a fuck—I want to know what you saw!"

I sighed, afraid that if I told him it would affect the way he felt for me—there's a reason for that saying 'don't kill the messenger'. Far too often we blame people for the bad news they deliver—I just hoped this wasn't one of those times. "I saw what happened that night… in her bedroom."

He staggered backward, sinking down on the foot of the bed. "You mean… the night she died? You saw her murder?"

"Yes… only it was more than that. I experienced it as if I were her. I felt it all—everything she felt that night. I didn't want to see it—but I couldn't escape." I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself—the memory of her pain echoing through my mind.

"That's why you were screaming," he murmured, burying his head in his hands.

"She fought back, Dusha… she fought so hard…she was brave—holding her own… but her hand slipped." I moved over to stand in front of him—wanting to comfort him, but unsure where to begin.

He looked up at me, his green eyes bright and glassy looking from his unshed tears. "Did she suffer?"

I stared at him for two dozen heartbeats—focusing all my will as I tried to shape and mold something I couldn't see; from the moment we'd met, he had always been able to tell when I was lying. I sent out a silent plea to God and the angels that Yeva believed were responsible for the visions, praying that they would hear me and intercede. _Please—this one time, hide the truth from his eyes. I will bear any burden you chose to send me… just please… give him peace. _"No—she didn't. It was quick and painless—it happened in the blink of an eye."

He shuddered, reaching out to grab my hand, pressing his lips against my palm. "Thank you Angel… I just needed to know she was at peace."

There was a chiming in my head—soft, like the soothing sound of a dulcimer, only at a much higher pitch than any instrument on earth could ever make; I closed my eyes, sending up silent thanks as I wrapped my arms around him and held him while he cried.

"Do you still want to see her, child?" We both turned to look at Yeva—Adrian trembled in my arms.

"More than anything… I never got to say goodbye." His voice broke, full of anguish so thick I could practically feel it.

"Then I will help you achieve this. But it cannot be done until we return to Court—that is where her spirit lingers."

His arms tightened around me, fingers digging into my back. "How? I want to _see _ her—not talk to her second hand."

"And so you will. We will go to the garden—the three of us… and you will pull Viktoria and I into one of those fancy dreams… then I will call her to us." She gave him a sad smile, holding out her hand to him; he glanced up at me—making my heart break. He looked like a little boy, needing permission—I nodded, stepping away.

He moved slowly, his grief making him unsteady on his feet, sliding his hand into hers and gazing into her eyes. "Is it… will it hurt you? Tell me the truth Ms. Belikova—I'll know if you lie."

"It will tire me… you will heal me when we are done." She glanced over at me, a strange, secretive smile on her lips before she returned her eyes to his, "Then you will be healed in return—and I am not Ms. Belikova to you. You may call me babushka—or Yeva, if you prefer."

"What does that mean?"

"Grandmother, " I whispered. "She is accepting you as one of her family."

"I haven't had a grandmother for a very long time… or even a family, really."

He sank down on the floor beside her, resting his forehead against her arm; her tiny hand moved up to gently stroke his head as she began humming softly. "Sleep, kotik. Sleep and let your mind wander to a beautiful place. Our kotyonok will go and fetch our dinner—then we will all discuss what she saw in the cabin, yes?"

"She shouldn't go alone… I need to go—"

"Shhh… no. You will stay and keep me company. Babushka will tell you tales of the olden days, when dragons were rampant and the Ivashkovs were the mountain kings, ruling over all of the motherland. Vika—go… tell them your grandmother is ill and needs a hot meal. I would prefer Pelmeni… tell them that too."

"Only here a few hours and already making demands? Watch out, people will start to think I'm a bad influence on you." His eyes were closed, his voice barely a whisper; I moved to tug the blanket so that it covered them both, then pressed a kiss against Yeva's forehead and one against Adrian's damp cheek.

"Hurry back," he whispered, "I miss you when you're gone."

"I will," I murmured, my eyes drifting up to meet Yeva's. She nodded her head, understanding the weight of my gaze—giving her affirmation that she'd watch over him for me, occupying his mind as best she could.

There was a stone walkway that bisected the large the quad, running between the building we were staying in and the commons area that housed the cafeteria; classes had apparently just been dismissed—it was crowded with laughing and joking students. Their voices were high pitched and cheerful, betraying their excitement at being freed from the drudgery of class. Their boisterous antics irritated me for some reason—perhaps because for a moment, I envied their carefree manner. They didn't have to worry about visions or missing relatives—or caring about someone who was in danger of slowly losing his mind. I wove between them, bypassing the lunch line to head for the service area where a dhampir woman stood collecting the discarded trays as the students dropped them off.

"Good afternoon Madam, I am a visitor here and—"

"You are Russian?" She cut me off, her voice delighted.

"Yes—I attend Saint Basil's." I automatically switched to my native tongue, "I am here with my grandmother… she is ill and asked me to see if there was perhaps some broth available for me to take her."

"You wait here one minute, yes? I get Natalia for you. She is the cook." Before I could respond, she disappeared thru the double doors, returning a few minutes later with an elderly woman at her side. "Your grandmother is ill? There is a doctor here—"

"Yes Madam, the doctor has seen her. It is nothing serious, she had a shock… we learned my cousin, Guardian Luzhkov—"

"Savva… you are Savva's kin?" Her blue eyes filled with tears as she reached out, pulling me into her arms. "I am very sorry for your loss—he was a very wonderful man. Always he came to visit me in the mornings to keep me company while I worked. I prepared him things to help with the homesickness… Sirniki and Pelmeni—"

"That is my grandmother's favorite—it is what she was craving," I pulled back, smiling down at her—she couldn't have been more than five foot two.

"You wait—I will make some. I have some in the deep freeze." She turned to the woman beside her, jerking her head towards the kitchen, "Fetch her a cup of my tea—" she turned back to me, smiling, "And what for you, little miss? Some blini?"

"Oh no madam—I can just eat something from the lunch line. There is no need to—"

The scoffing noise she made cut me off. "No no no. I will prepare you a tray, yes? For you and your grandmother."

"There is one more person in out group—my… uh… friend."

"I will make sure to have plenty for three. You sit… give me a few moments. I am Natalia. While you are here… you ask for me. Savva's kin will not eat pre-prepared food."

"It is an honor to meet you—I am Viktoria. Viktoria Belikova."

Her eyes widened. "You are related to Gurdian Belikov too? I did not know he and Savva were kin!"

"He is my big brother." I smiled proudly. "We are visiting him at Court—this is just a side trip."

"I will send something to him when you go—I was very fond of him and his big appetite." She laughed, steering me over to a bench that ran along the wall. "Sit—I will be back soon. Stasya will bring you tea—good tea, the way we have it at home."

I waited until Stasya returned, accepting the mug of tea gratefully; it was spicy and delicious, with hints of cinnamon and clove—even better than the way my mama prepared it when we were at home. I said as much, making her laugh.

"The secret ingredient is the orange—Natalia does not use orange juice, she uses the powdered Tang drink mix." She winked before hurrying back to her post.

I took another long drink before setting the mug down beside me on the bench; digging through my purse, I pulled out the phone I'd been given, scrolling through the few numbers that were listed before hitting the call button. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself—he answered on the second ring.

"Viktoria—bored already?"

"I have a question for you."

He chuckled. "I have answers for almost everything. Shoot."

"If I were to ask for a favor… how much would it cost me?"

"Depends on the favor, kid."

"This is just between you and me? You won't tell anyone… not even Roza?" Almost as much as I worried over the cost of the favor, I worried that Roza would find out and blab to my brother.

"Favors are business, and I keep my business separate from my private life—I won't say a word to anyone. What is it you're needing? A loan? How much were you—"

"I need the floor plan for the Guardian's Headquarters building at Court."

He was silent for a minute—probably shocked by what I'd said. "Why?"

"For… reasons."

"Expound on that."

"There is information there that I need… I'm going to break in and get it."

"Jesus kid—when you go rogue, you really do it with pizazz." He snorted; I could hear him drumming his fingers on something. "What kind of information?"

"That does not concern you."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might know the information you need? I have eyes and ears everywhere, Viktoria. If we're going to make a deal… there must be full disclosure and total honesty between us."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I need to find out where Adrian's mother is."

"Why?"

"He wants to see her. He _needs_ to see her. I'm going to make it happen."

"I repeat… why?"

"Do I really need a reason to want to help him?"

"For something like breaking and entering into an area that's protected by guardians? Yeah—you do."

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. "Don't make me say it." It was a whisper. "He should hear it first… not you."

Abe sighed. "You've fallen hard and fast, haven't you?"

I didn't answer.

"I sympathize kid—same way it hit me with Janine." He sighed deeply, falling silent; the only indication that he was still on the line was the sound of rustling papers. "I'll try and find out where she is—if I can't… I'll get you what you need and help you pull it off."

"I don't need—"

"Bullshit—you can't break in there alone Viktoria. You're eighteen—if they catch you… you'll be in a cell right alongside Daniella's. I'll make sure there's…something to occupy the Guardian's while you go in and get what you need—you'll probably have to use Hans Croft's computer to access the information, so we'll need his passwords as well. It would be a hell of a lot easier if we included Rose—"

"No! She can't know—I'm not supposed to even be _talking_ to Adrian, remember?"

"Calm down—I gave you my word I wouldn't say anything and I won't. But logistically speaking, as the Queen's primary guardian… she can get in places most people can't."

I fell silent for a moment, considering what he said. "Does she have… like… an ID badge?"

"Yes… why?"

"And if she was seen going into the headquarters… no one would question it, right?"

"No—she has all access clearance, to the best of my knowledge. What are you thinking, little girl?"

"That if you can get me the floor plans… I can do the rest—but you still haven't told me your price."

"Two things. A favor in the future—nothing illegal or immoral—and for you to do what you can to heal the rift between my daughter and Ivashkov. You may not believe it… but she misses her friend."

"You want me… to fix things between the man I lo—" I caught myself, scowling, "—the man I am involved with and his ex?"

"Isn't that what I said? It's really in your best interest… until they patch things up, Belikov will never accept your involvement with Adrian—he won't be able to. Rose is hurting—which hurts him in return. Not to mention the fact my daughter… can be rather vindictive. It's a family trait. Until they're friends again… she's going to continue to be pissed off at him."

I thought about it; the fact he wanted an unnamed favor probably should have bothered me more than the thought of Adrian rekindling his friendship with Roza—but it didn't. Still, I knew it was the best deal I was likely to make. "Fine. Then we have a deal."

"Come see me when you get back to Court. I'll have everything ready by then."

He hung up; I sat, staring at the phone for a minute, wondering if I'd just sold my soul to the devil without realizing it.

"Viktoria?" Natalia's voice pulled me out of my dark musings; she'd returned with the food—enough to feed an army.

I stared at the overflowing tray, stunned. It was bigger than the one's the students were using—insteadof small and rectangular shaped, it was large and round, like a server might use in a restaurant. There was a huge bowl of Pelmeni, a plate stacked with blini, sandwiches, fruit, butter, a pitcher of warm strawberry syrup and a large carafe of the delicious tea—along with empty mugs, plates and silverware. "Please…tell me my brother and my cousin did not expect you to cook like this every day?"

She laughed, balancing the tray easily while I out my phone away and stood up. "Expected? No—never. I was pleased to do it. Our men… they have big appetites, yes?"

"So do I," I admitted, smiling as I took the tray, trying not to spill anything. "Thank you very much, I—"

"This is for grandmother… a few drops in her tea will help her more than anything the doctor could prescribe," she whispered, lifting up the napkins on the tray to show me a tiny bottle of Russian Vodka that she's hidden underneath them. Only for grandmother! I am trusting you."

"Yes Madam—I will not touch a drop, I swear to you." I leaned over, pressing a kiss against her cheek; she beamed up at me, pleased with the gesture.

"In the morning I will prepare Olad'yi for you all—when you arrive tell Stasya so I can start them cooking." She steered me through the throng of students, waving them out of the way—holding the door open for me to maneuver through. "Tell your grandmother I look forward to meeting her tomorrow, and I hope she feels better."

Going back across the quad—and up all those stairs—carrying that overladen tray was an effort, to say the least. It wasn't that it was heavy, more that it was just bulky, and I had to be so very careful not to jostle or spill anything—which would have been considerably easier had the Moroi students been polite enough to step aside when they saw me coming as opposed to expecting _me_ to move out of _their _ way. By the time I made it back to the room, I was more than a little irritable; I bumped my elbow against the door, trying to knock softly—when that didn't work, I tried again, kicking it with my foot a little harder, but still, no one came to help me.

Cursing softly, I struggled to balance the overladen tray on one arm, digging in my pocket for the key to the room and trying to get it in the lock. By the time I finally got it turned, I'd spilled half of the tea down my arm—the hot liquid scalding my skin. I was ready to launch into a tirade about rudeness when I got the door open—but the sight that awaited me froze me in place before a single word left my lips. My frustration was swept away by a sense of calming peace; it was a feeling like the one you get when a heavy storm has passed over, the rain leaving everything it touched clean and fresh and new in its wake.

They were both sound asleep—my grandmother snoring softly—with Adrian curled up on the floor beside the couch, his dark head resting against her arm. Even deeply asleep, their hands were clasped together; from the pain free expression on Yeva's face, I knew he had healed away any remaining arthritic aches the injection she'd received earlier had missed. The act had exhausted him so completely that he didn't stir at all—not when I set the tray down on the table that was less than a foot from where he rested his head or when I gently placed a pillow from the bed under his neck, hoping it would keep it from aching when he woke.

Grabbing one of the sandwiches and pouring myself a mug of tea, I retreated to the same chair I'd occupied a few hours before—scarfing down the food as quickly as I could before sorting through the stack of journals, searching for the very first one. I tossed my legs over the arm of the chair, ignoring how uncomfortable it was as I began to read my cousin's thoughts, searching for whatever it was that my grandmother thought I should find.

"Vika? What are you reading?" Yeva's voice was hushed, softer than a whisper; she sounded half asleep—the way I sometimes did when Mama tried to talk to me before I'd crawled out of bed.

"We found Savva's journals. I thought maybe they might—"

"Good. His wisdom will guide you—he was an excellent guardian. Very dedicated to his Moroi."

"I have the food. There is Pelmeni and—"

"Can you not see we are resting child? Eating can wait—now hush, or you will wake our kotik." She turned her head, her lips curving up in a soft smile as she gazed at Adrian's sleeping face. "He is a good boy. Strong and brave—you will help him see this." Her voice faded as her eyes closed; a moment later her mouth fell open and she started snoring again.

Sighing, I shifted, trying to find a position that didn't make me feel as though my spine were breaking, then I began to read, losing myself in my cousin's innermost thoughts—things he never intended for anyone else to see. It didn't take me more than a few entries to realize that I'd need to skip a few volumes—the one I held in my hands had been written when he was fifteen, and though it was sweet reading about his secret love for his best friend, it didn't seem like the sort of thing that could help me figure out what had happened to him.

I skimmed through the book, reading a few entries at random, but it was pretty clear that the majority of them were dedicated to poetic ramblings about the Moroi girls dark hair or comparing her eyes to the clear blue of a spring sky. Closing the book, I chewed on my lips, eyeing the stack until I came up with what seemed like the most logical course of action. As quietly as possible, I leafed through the journals, separating them into two stacks; the first were the books composed while he was a novice, the second for the ones that had been written after he'd graduated and become a guardian. Satisfied that now I'd finally make some headway, I picked a book at random from the second stack and settled back to read—only to let out a hushed groan a few minutes later. Apparently even as a guardian, one thing had dominated my cousin's mind—Sofiya Badica. This time he was going on and on about her voice—as soft and sweet as a meadowlarks song.

I was obviously in for a very long, very boring night of reading.

It may sound harsh or overly critical, but Savva's musings just didn't hold my attention. I was halfway through the book when I started nodding off—but I made it to the end of the volume before sleep completely overtook me. I'd at least figured out one thing; the music box had been his Moroi's—a token of love he'd given her when they were little more than children. It didn't explain where it was now, but it gave me some idea as to why it had been important to him.

I woke up stiff and uncomfortable an hour or so later, still clutching the journal I'd been reading when sleep had overcome me. My grandmother and Adrian were still fast asleep, the tray untouched beside them; I didn't want to disturb them—they both needed to rest and recuperate from everything that had happened over the last few days. Setting the book down, I stretched, loosening all the kinks and knots that had formed in my back while I'd napped in the chair. My neck still ached a little, but it was nothing a hot shower wouldn't cure—and of course, once I thought about it, I couldn't put it off. I felt grimy from our visit to the cabin—not to mention that I probably still smelled sweaty from our hike.

I left the room as quietly as I could, intending to return to wake Adrian and Yeva up after I showered and put on some clean, sweat free clothed; my plan changed, however, as soon as I crossed the hall and entered the room where I'd left my things. There was a large envelope on the floor with my name scrawled across it, obviously shoved under the door by Alberta Petrov—it contained the schedule she'd worked out for me and a map of the campus. I looked it over, frowning; they only had eight classes a day as opposed to the ten we had at Saint Basil's, but whereas I had only planned on attending a couple, Alberta had me sitting in on every class—which wouldn't leave me much time for anything else. I'd already wasted the first day of our stay by hiking out to Savva's cabin—there were only two remaining, and I knew they would practically fly by.

A glance at my watch told me I needed to hurry—I was expected in the gym in less than an hour to attend the first novice training session of the day. Dropping the papers on the bed I hurried to take a fast shower, not bothering to do anything more than towel dry my hair since time was scarce. I braided it quickly in a single, long plait, then dressed in the same sort of clothesI'd wear for my own classes—yoga pants and a baggy Saint Basil's t-shirt that had my last name across the back; if they expected me to dress up just because I was a visitor, they were in for a rude awakening. Shoving my feet in my beat up sneakers, I jotted a quick note on the back of the envelope Alberta had left— explaining where I'd gone so Yeva and Adrian wouldn't worry—then I grabbed my purse, cramming the schedule inside but keeping the map in hand as I set out to find the gym.

Despite the fact I got twisted around a couple times before I found it, I was still about ten minutes early; Emil and another guardian were setting up the mats when I walked in. I automatically set down my small bag and hurried over to help them—catching Emil off guard. He looked so surprised by my actions I laughed; obviously the novices here never thought to offer assistance.

"Miss Belikova—good morning. You really don't have to—"

"I don't mind—I often have to help out in the gym. Guardian Zykov often assigns me the task as punishment for being tardy." I grabbed one of the mats, dragging it over to where they stood, quickly unfolding the padded material and laying it out across the ground.

"That's not a bad idea—maybe we should try that here."

"I'm sure it is supposed to teach me to be more prompt—but between you and me, it hasn't worked a bit. I'd much rather sleep for thirty more minutes and help out in the gym than get up early and be tired and grouchy all day long."

He shook his head, chuckling at my candor. "You are going to scare Guardian Maclamore—this is his first teaching position and he's only been here a few weeks. He still thinks all novices have a burning desire to learn."

I looked over at the stocky red haired guardian, smiling apologetically. "I promise you most novices are far more conscientious than me—I just happen to be a very lazy girl who loves sleeping in."

Maclamore gave me an appraising look. "Not too lazy—you're here before everyone else."

"Ah—but that is only because I haven't really slept. I dozed in a chair watching over my grandmother, but only for an hour or so. If I'd actually been stretched out in a comfortable bed, I assure you I would still be cuddled up under the covers."

Both men laughed at the comment, making me feel more at ease; as we finished laying out the mats, Emil questioned me about my classes and training schedule. I noticed that as I answered, the other guardian tensed, withdrawing from the conversation entirely— though I didn't understand why. I was on the verge of asking if I had somehow offended him when the first of the novices rolled in, their boisterous, noisy antics making conversation impossible. Within minutes, the gym was full of boys—all of them whispering and casting furtive glances my way, making me feel completely out of place as I retreated to the wall. I was there to observe, but I was the one being watched—though I could not fault them for their curiosity.

Emil stepped to the center of the room, clapping his hands and calling for attention; as he began to speak, my discomfort grew even stronger—he was talking about my brother and the things that had happened that led up to his being turned. They were things I didn't want to know—I didn't want to picture my brother dying in that cave; I didn't want to hear about how bravely he had given his life or how they'd left him all alone. I tuned him out as best I could, studying the floor beneath my feet—only looking up when I heard my name falling from his lips.

"Miss Belikova is a senior at Saint Basil's and she will be observing your classes for the next two days. While she is here you will be welcoming and show her the same respect you would want to receive if you were a guest at her school." He nodded to me, smiling, then launched into the days lesson—a review of the basic defense techniques they'd been learning over the last few weeks.

He was a very interesting teacher; he didn't preach or nag—instead he laughed and joked as he moved among the students, correcting sloppy foot placement and posture in a way that wasn't chastising or stern. I could tell the students liked him by the way they responded to; they didn't talk back or get frustrated by his suggestions in the slightest—instead they listened intently, immediately incorporating what he said, trying to please him by giving it their all.

"I suppose your classes are very different than this, Miss Belikova?" Guardian Maclamore leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless as he glanced my way. "From what you said I take it their teaching methods are very different than ours."

I frowned, replaying the answers I'd given Emil. "No sir… I am not sure why you would say that. The only comparison I made was to say we took more classes each day. For one thing we are all required to take English as a second language and—"

"So these are the same techniques you're leaning? I would have thought a senior novice would be studying more advanced things."

"I learned these things my freshman year," I said, shaking my head. "Our classes are structured differently—they test us on what we know, then place us accordingly. Because my grandmother trained me at home, I was more advanced than my peers—so I was allowed to attend more advanced classes."

His jaw tightened. "I see. So you're saying you know things we aren't teaching these boys?"

"I can think of only one technique that I have not seen here today," I responded, my eyes on Emil as he 'attacked' a student from behind. "But it isn't one I learned at the academy—my grandmother taught me when I was about nine. I don't think it is one you would show this class, since you are men and they are boys."

"We've covered _all_ the basics—this is only one class, you can't expect to see them all in one day. There are far too many to cover one lesson." His voice was curt—his irritation evident.

"Of course—I meant no offense, sir."

"I think you did—you implied our training methods are lacking. Guardian Amanar—" he called out loudly, attracting the attention of every single person in the room, "apparently our lessons aren't up to par with Saint Basil's—Miss Belikova seems to think we've skipped a fundamental lesson."

"I didn't say that! I—"

"Oh really?" Emil didn't seem as offended as Maclamore—he sounded almost amused. "Then maybe she should demonstrate it for us—I'd hate to leave our students unprepared."

My cheeks heated at the suggestion; shaking my head I protested vehemently, not wanting to show them anything. "I only said I hadn't seen it used today—that's all."

"What's the matter Miss Belikova—afraid to be proven wrong?" Maclamore gave me a withering look, filling his eyes with contempt. "Or are you just afraid we'll point out all the flaws in your form?"

I glared at him, my temper flaring as he picked on me; all I'd done was answer his questions truthfully but he was acting like I'd intentionally insulted his teaching skills. I felt my mask of politeness fall away—the intense dislike I was feeling for the man made it impossible to hand onto civility. Filling my eyes with just as much contempt, I stalked over to the mats—holding up my hand to stop Emil as he approached me. "No, I want to fight Guardian Maclamore—he issued a challenge to me."

"It won't be a fight, Miss Belikova—I don't want to hurt a lazy little girl." The guardian's voice was scornful—fueling my anger.

"We shall see—I wager you are the one who will be hurting, _sir_." I muttered, making the word 'sir' an insult with my tone.

"Before you demonstrate we need the lesson," Emil said, motioning the students to move back and give us room.

"There is no lesson—I am no teacher," I protested, giving him an evil look. He seemed far too pleased with what was happening for my liking.

"Today you are. Please begin."

I scowled, watching Maclamore as he swaggered towards me. "I am sure you are all aware my brother is a very large man—almost gargantuan. He is tall and bulky, and has been since he was about fourteen. He was bigger than the other novices in his class; no one could ever beat him. This concerned my grandmother—she was afraid he was in danger of becoming cocky and overconfident—so the next time he came home… she challenged him to a sparring match."

"Is this how they teach lessons at Saint Basil's? By telling boring stories?" Maclamore stopped a few feet away from me, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"There is no need for rudeness, Guardian Maclamore. Don't make me remind you that Miss Belikova is a guest at this academy." Emil's voice was sterner than I'd heard since my arrival—holding a distinct note of dislike for the man he was addressing; it made me wonder if he had a problem with the him. "Miss Belikova—please continue."

My eyes darted around the crowd of students that were watching—they didn't seem bored, though they were obviously eager for the physical demonstration to commence. "I tell you these things so you will understand—a match between my brother and our grandmother was hardly an even one; she is barely five feet tall in her stocking feet. That did not deter her in the slightest—she was insistent, so he followed her outside with my sisters and I trailing after them. They faced off—then right before they began, she posed him with a riddle: The greatest, most skilled fighter in the world fears not the second greatest fighter—but the worst."

Maclamore charged me—tired of waiting; I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, skirting him and punching him in the side as he passed me. He whirled around, his left leg lashing out at me—I had todive sideways and roll to avoid the kick. I leapt up from the mat, but before I could center myself he was on me, fists flying in a combination I couldn't evade while still off balance. Pain lanced through my face as his fist smashed into my cheekbone—my breath leaving me in an audible rush as his other fist hit my solar plexus. I shook my head, dancing back to increase the distance between us—focusing on my anger so I could override the pain.

So much for not wanting to hurt me.

He seemed surprised that I was still on my feet; his stance was sloppy—as if he thought the fight was over. It wasn't—not for me. Not by a longshot.

"Is that the best you've got?" I said, crouching over to lower my center of gravity; my goading comment worked—he moved towards me again without correcting his form.

I feinted left—throwing a punch as soon as he tried to get under my guard; there was a crunch as my fist met his nose—cartilage flattening under the force of my swing. To give him credit, he didn't falter; he shook his head once then crouched down lower, lunging at me again—only this time I didn't avoid him. I shifted, misdirecting his attention—leaving my midsection open for whatever punch he might throw; he took the opening, just like I'd thought he would—so intent on my 'mistake' that he was completely unprepared for the well-aimed kick I slammed right between his legs with all the force I could muster.

There was an audible intake of breath from every male in the room; I knew that if I looked at them, they would all be wincing at my action. Maclamore was red faced as he doubled over, clutching at his privates with both hands.

"You fucking bitch! That's cheat—"

His words dissolved into a howl of pain as I took out his left knee with a side kick, the joint popping with a sickening sound—but I wasn't finished yet. I punched him in the kidneys then slammed my knee up under his chin—stepping back as he collapsed on the mat.

"The greatest fighter fears the amateur because they will use unpredictable moves that a well-trained fighter would never use. Even more fearful is someone who has been trained but understands that sometimes you must make an amateurish mistake to bring a man to his knees and win the fight." I slammed my hand against Maclamore's back—touching the spot I would stake if he had been a Strigoi. "You, sir… are dead."

I turned my back on him—a gesture that was a disgrace to a fallen fighter; it showed that I considered him no threat. "A Strigoi expects a Guardian to fight like a well-trained expert—they expect the roundhouse kicks and punch combinations… they _do not_ expect a kick in the balls. It may not hurt them the same way it hurts you—but the brain is a very funny thing. No matter the manner of creature, their brain remembers pain once it has been experienced. When I kicked him… you all remembered the feeling of being kicked there, yes? A Strigoi will remember it too. It will give you a brief opening to gain the upper hand that you might not have had before."

"What if it's a woman? Won't work then." It came from the back of the crowd—a tall boy, with sandy hair that hung forward in his eyes. I opened my mouth to respond—only to be interrupted by an amused voice from behind me.

"It affects women the same way—we feel pain, just a different kind." I glanced over my shoulder to where the voice came from; my grandmother and Adrian were standing by the wall near the doorway, wearing identical looks, their expressions filled with pride.

"But ladies don't have… you know." The boy blushed, ducking his head.

"Child, a woman's genitals are filled with nerve endings—they are extremely sensitive to pleasure _and_ pain. I suggest you study up on female anatomy before you reach manhood or you will have many unsatisfied bedmates and no repeat visitors." Yeva beckoned me over with her hand, frowning. "I am taking my granddaughter to get food and a compress for her jaw. I suggest you inform Guardian Petrov of what happened here—Viktoria will be attending no more training classes today. She did not come here to be abused by the faculty."

"But I have a schedule—"

"Your grandmother is right—you need to put ice on your cheek." Emil moved up beside me, reaching to shake my hand. "Thank you for a most educational demonstration, Miss Belikova. I would like to spar with you before you leave—in a much friendly manner, of course."

I tried to smile my thanks, but failed—moving my lips made the pain blossom all over again all up and down the side of my face. "Thank you sir—it would be my pleasure. You are an excellent instructor, the students here are very lucky to have you."

I walked over, scooping up my bag, ducking my head as I approached Yeva and Adrian; had my hair been down the gesture would have worked, allowing me to hide my injury, but with it pulled back tightly, it was still on display—Adrian's sharp intake of breath made that obvious. He reached for my cheek, but I batted his hand away; he couldn't heal me—if he did, everyone would wonder why I wasn't bruised in a few hours time.

"Angel—"

"You can't. I'll take some aspirin and it will be fine."

"I know just the thing for that—a poultice my great grandmother showed me. It works wonders… I promise. There won't even be a bruise." Yeva's voice was loud as we exited the gym; I shot her a look rolling my eyes.

"I am not letting him heal me—he can't… it hurts him," I whispered fiercly.

"Mhmmm… give and take… one heals the hurt then is healed themself. That is the way of the things," she murmured, not looking at either of us.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled; I stared at her, waiting for her to continue—she didn't.

"Tell me… did you find anything interesting in your cousin's writings?"

I sighed loudly at her abrupt change of subject, shaking my head—a gesture I wouldn't be repeating anytime soon since the movement made my injured face radiate with pain. "I think I will just read the later volumes—most of what I read last night was about his infatuation with his best friend… If I have to read one more thing comparing her wavy hair to the midnight black waters of the Ob, I might scream.

Adrian made a choking sound, "Are you serious?"

"Oh yes. He was a very poetic man—but I don't think the adolescent musings of a boy in love will help me figure out what became of him."

"Did I say you should read them to find out where he went? No—I told you to read them for his wisdom." Yeva shot me a scolding look, adjusting her shawl around her shoulders.

"No offense, but having been an adolescent boy myself… I can tell you they aren't very wise," Adrian offered, his fingers brushing against my hand—making shivers of pleasure dance along my skin.

"My Savva was not like most boys, kotik. He was born with an old soul, much like me. At fifteen he discovered what I did not know until I was almost a grown woman."

My neck prickled again; I stopped walking, putting my hands on my hips and scowling. "This is ridiculous—if you know something, just tell me! All your hints don't help me at all—in fact they are starting to frustrate me. Every time you do it my Sight prickles—it is very disconcerting!"

"If I could tell you, I would. I cannot. It is a dangerous thing—trying to navigate around the obstacles fate puts in our paths; I often wonder if my life might have played out very differently had I not tried to change the things I saw in vision. Would you risk the blessings you have on hand for instant knowledge as opposed to taking the time to find it on your own? If your answer is yes, then you are not worthy of hearing my wisdom."

I didn't respond; she was right—what I'd found with Adrian was far too important to lose because I took a shortcut. My eyes flicked from my grandmother to Adrian and then back again as I slowly nodded my assent. "You are right… as always. I apologize for my outburst."

She huffed at me, turning away and speeding her steps; as we approached the cafeteria, I moved to open the door for her, but Adrian beat me to it, winking and bowing as he ushered her inside—immediately chasing away her sullen mood and bringing a smile to her face.

"Thank you kotik—such a gentleman. You see? I knew he was a good, wholesome boy the first time I laid eyes on him."

"Even though I was lip locked with your granddaughter at the time?" His tone was light and teasing, making her chuckle.

"Even so. And of course I knew that kiss would become something much more heated later that night."

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. I never imagined I would see Adrian embarrassed—but he certainly was in that moment; I felt my face flush—his did the same, the faintest flush of pink across his cheekbones. "You… uh… knew that was going to happen?"

"Of course—why do you think I sent Zmey to help her find you?"

Thank God above I heard Stasya call out my name; it provided me with something to divert Yeva's attention before she could embarrass us further. By the time we neared the line, Natalia had bustled out of the kitchen; she bowed to Yeva and took her hand, launching into an oration on all the wonderful things my brother and cousin had said about her. The two began talking, so fast that it was like listening to the chatter of magpies; Adrian just smiled, unable to follow the conversation since it was in Russian—and me? My entire head was throbbing; it started just below my cheekbone where Maclamore hit me, radiating outward like a starburst in all directions. The thought of even attempting to eat made me ill—the amount of pain that chewing would involve would probably make me pass out.

I cleared my throat, interrupting just long enough to tell them I was going to find us a seat; I needed to escape the rapid fire conversation and sit down before I threw up. I found a table close enough that Yeva wouldn't have far to walk, but one that was still a good distance away from the area where most of the students were seated; school dynamics are pretty much the same no matter where you are—the tables nearest the serving lines are generally the last ones to fill.

The cafeteria wasn't extremely busy, but there were still quite a few students present—they gathered in clusters, scattered throughout the large, rectangular room. They were mostly Moroi, making me wonder if their classes started later than the novice ones—that was the way it was structured at my school, since we had a fuller course load. Unfortunately, my quick perusal of the room attracted attention; I had only just seated myself when a tall dark haired boy broke away from one of the groups, sauntering my was with a friendly smile on his face. He leaned against the table beside me, slouching, with his hands buried in his pockets—perhaps thinking it made him look laid back and cool. It didn't.

"Hi—I don't remember seeing you around before. You a new transfer?"

"No—I am a visitor." I stared straight ahead, not even turning my head to look at him; I knew his type far too well—he would take any polite response as an invitation to flirt. I wasn't in the mood for conversation—especially not the kind he was likely to offer. Something about his mannerisms reminded me of Rolan—and that was not a good thing.

"You go to Saint Basil's?"

I barely turned my head, glancing at him from the corner of my eye as he gestured towards my shirt. "Yes, I am a senior there."

"I hear they're pretty strict compared to—wow… what happened to your face?" He sat down—uninvited—eyes wide as he stared at my cheek.

"Training injury."

"Looks painful. I'm Maximillian—Max to my friends." He held out his hand—I ignored it.

"I do not mean to be rude but I am not in the mood for company—my injury looks painful because it _is_ painful… talking makes it feel worse."

"You should go to the clinic—they could give you something to help with the pain. I'd be glad to walk you over—"

"Making friends, sweetheart?" Adrian's voice was a low purr as he claimed the chair on my other side, setting down two cups of coffee as he leaned over to brush his lips across my injured cheek. The accompanying rush of warmth dulled the worst of the pain; it still ached, but it was no longer throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

I frowned, irritated that he'd healed me, even just a little. "Guardian Johnson, this is—"

"Max Tarus—son of Damon Tarus,"Adrian cut me off smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "Cousin to Adrian Ivashkov—from what I hear he's trying to follow in his cousin's notorious footsteps."

"Do I know you?" The boy—Max—looked more than a little put out at Adrian's sudden appearance.

"Maybe—you were at Alder last year, right? What happened? Get expelled for sneaking dhampir girls into your dorm room again?" He took a sip of coffee, seeming to enjoy making his young cousin squirm.

"Were you on staff there? No one was supposed to talk about that… my father said he took care of it." Max glanced over his shoulder at his friends, looking worried.

"Ah yes… Damon Tarus and his exemplary legal maneuvering. Unfortunately, I didn't sign the non-disclosure agreement." Adrian's arm slid around the back of my chair, tugging it closer to his. "I can assure you Miss Belikova doesn't want to come up to your room and see your collection of antique coins—she's got her hands full keeping me in line."

I'd assumed the boy had come over intending to flirt—but Adrian seemed sure that he'd had much more than just flirting on his mind. "If you will excuse us Max—as I said before, I am in quite a bit of pain and am not in the mood for company."

"Sure… sorry I bothered you. Hope you feel better soon."

He looked so crestfallen as he stood that I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch his arm. "Thank you for offering to take me to see the doctor. I appreciate it."

He nodded, the hurt embarrassment fading from his face. "You're welcome. I hope you enjoy your visit."

I watched him walk back over to his friends, waving when he glanced back over his shoulder. "You didn't have to be so rough on him—I could have handled it."

"Oh I know you could have—but everything I said was true. Alder is the third school he's been kicked out of for that shit—I might have just spared some poor novice from becoming a teen mom." Adrian gave me a lopsided smile, his leg pressing against mine under the table; it was hard for me to keep my mind on scolding him when I was suddenly hyper aware of the heat of his body so close to mine.

"Where is Yeva? Did you lose her?"

"Nah—they're showing her the kitchen. She said for me to run along and stop hovering over her." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You should have woken me up last night—we had a date, remember?"

"I thought about it—more than once—but you looked completely exhausted. We'll make up for it later, yes?"

"We better. After watching you hand that guy his ass this morning… I'm feeling a little frisky."

I blushed, giggling. "Does that mean I should offer to spar with you sometime? We could get all hot and sweaty… then finish the match in the shower."

He made a sound low in his throat, arching his brows. "Definitely. In fact I think we should—"

"Viktoria… Johnson—Good morning. I'm glad I spotted you—I have those lists I mentioned yesterday. The ones of the students that—"Alberta stopped abruptly as I turned to face her. "What in the hell happened to your face?"

"Guardian Maclamore," I muttered, scowling.

"What?" Her expression shifted, anger slowly replacing the look of concern she'd been wearing. "He _hit_ you?"

"He took offense at something I said and goaded me into sparring. I'll be fine—I've had worse." I reached up, carefully probing the area where he'd punched me—wondering exactly how bad it looked.

"Whether or not you've had worse isn't the issue—a staff guardian injuring a visitor to this campus is. I'll speak with him—"

"Please don't—it really was just a misunderstanding, I think."

"Yeah and she corrected it pretty fast." Adrian chuckled, trailing his fingertips along my arm—a gesture that made Alberta's eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling, her grey eyes flicking up from his hand to lock with mine. "He won't underestimate the next sweet Russian girl he meets—and he'll be walking funny for a few days."

Her lips twitched—just barely. "I see. Am I to assume he'll probably need someone to cover his patrol shift this evening?"

"I'd say it's a safe bet—" he deadpanned, "—unless he can ice his balls and walk at the same time."

"Don't forget… I took out his knee too," I pointed out.

"Do you feel up to observing the other novice classes I had scheduled for today? Not the training ones, of course, but the more academic ones?"

"Why does she need to observe academics? Math is math whether it's in Russia or Montana, right? It's pretty much a universal thing."

I smiled at his quip. "She means things like Theory and Surveillance and Communication—novice academics, not the other kind. I'm fine to attend those, I think, once I get some aspirin and ice my face… but I think it would be wise to avoid any classes that Maclamore takes part in."

"Understandable. Just shift around the schedule in whatever way works best for you—I realized this morning that I forgot to include the note I'd written that said as much in your packet."

"Thank you—that's good to know. I was wondering when I'd have time for the library when I saw how many classes you had me down for."

"If you tell me what books and information you need I can go to the library and copy it for you," Adrian offered, his gaze heavy as our eyes met; I immediately understood his thought process—it would give him a reason to be in the library so he could look through the books he and Lissa had found.

"That's very thoughtful of you Johnson." Alberta gave me a look—raising an eyebrow. "Not many men would volunteer for such a boring job."

"I was educated at home so I never got the whole Academy experience—it'll give me a chance to see what I missed, so it's not an entirely selfless offer." His eyes flicked between us, his brow furrowing.

"Be that as it may, it's still going out of your way." She smiled at him—then shot me another look. "I'll let the librarian know you have permission to be there—I need to get back to my office." She handed me a large file folder that was held closed with a rubber band. "That's all the information Mazur should need—those are the students who need the most help."

"This is wonderful, thank you. You just saved me quite a bit of work."

"It's probably a good thing—you look dead on your feet. Rest a few hours before you attempt any classes—I'd hate for you to fall asleep in the middle of a lecture." She winked, patting my shoulder as she took her leave.

"What in the hell was that about?"

"Hmmm?" I glanced up from the folder, arching a questioning brow.

"Those looks she was giving you—I've never seen her like that before." Adrian watched her move across the cafeteria as he took a sip of coffee.

"Oh—last night she gave me a talking to. She thinks I should let Guardian Johnson down easy."

He choked on the swallow he'd taken. "Excuse me?"

"Mhmm. She told me Dimitri had asked her to keep an eye on us and we started talking about him being overprotective. I sort of told her what happened at the dance… and she said I needed to let Johnson down easily because it was obvious he cared about me."

"So why would you have to let me down easy?"

"Because she could tell by the way I talked about _you_ that I was pretty crazy about you."

"Me as in me… or me as in Johnson? God—this is getting confusing."

"You as in Adrian—and she said that you were wonderful and compassionate too."

His eyes widened dramatically. "Was she drunk?"

"No—she just happens to like you and see behind your mask," I teased, winking at him, "the same way I do."

He huffed, trying to look annoyed—but the way his lips curved up gave him away. "I think you're both imagining things."

"Nope, not at all." I smiled at him, pushing back my chair as I saw Yeva and Natalia approaching—lowering my voice to a whisper. "I hope you are very hungry Dusha… because dhampirs have big appetites and it looks like Natalia made enough for at least ten people.

He eyed the tray she set down on the table for a moment, then his eyes darted back up to my face. "Holy shit."

"Mhmmm… and a third of it is all yours, so dig in. We have a lot to do today."


	15. Chapter 15: The Missing Link

_Dear Diary,_

_It was a good thing he'd healed me a little, since he barely made a dent in the stack of Olad'yi that Natalia set in front of him; when I finished off mine, I switched plates with him, cleaning off his plate too—I didn't want the kind hearted woman to be offended or to think that he didn't like her cooking. We split up after breakfast—Yeva and I returned to the room so she could 'take care' of my injury, while Adrian went to the library to hunt down the books he needed in hopes of finding whatever it was he remembered seeing when he was here before. As we parted he brushed his fingertips against my cheek, sending another surge of healing warmth to remove the remains of my pain—then he scurried off as fast as he could, before I could reprimand him for doing it._

I spent a couple hours flipping through Savva's journals before resuming my classroom observations; this time Yeva tagged along with me, muttering under her breath about wasting time on trivial, unimportant things. I ignored her as best I could, though she continued harping throughout the entire communications class—which was a shame since her griping kept distracting me from the lecture, which was an extremely interesting one that I might have actually enjoyed, had it not been for her ongoing commentary.

The second class we attended… was very different from the first. I'd always assumed Professor Doloyska back home was the most boring instructor on the planet—but compared to Guardian Stan Alto… Doloyska was the life of the party.

Fighting back another yawn, I flinched, glaring at my grandmother; she kept pinching my thigh every few minutes as soon as I started to nod off.

"Stop that! I am going to be black and blue!" I whispered fiercely. "What is this—pick on Vika day?"

"Stop falling asleep—it is rude," she whispered back, not even looking my way.

"I can't help it! I am tired and I already know this. Not to mention the fact he is—"

"Am I boring you, Novice Belikova?" The guardian's loud voice whipped my eyes to the front of the room. "I suppose you think you know all there is to know about Strigoi… since your brother _was _ one."

Yeva's eyes narrowed; I tensed, struggling to keep my voice polite since I was a visitor to the school. "No sir—but we covered this material at Saint Basil's during my sophomore year."

"That's impossible—all Academies are required to teach the same curriculum at Senior level."

"Be that as it may, at my school they test the novices to ascertain what they know and then assign the classes they take accordingly." I was actually quite shocked to learn that they didn't do the same thing here in the States—it seemed like a waste of time, teaching the students materials that they might have already surpassed. "I learned a great deal on my own from my brother and my—"

"Ah yes… your brother. Who was such an outstanding guardian that he—"

"Her _grandmother_ taught her as well," Yeva cut in sharply, before he could further slander Dimitri's good reputation.

"Oh—well excuse me! Maybe you'd like to take over the lesson then, Mrs Belikova? Since you think you are such an excellent teacher." Sarcasm dripped from his words.

"I thought you would never ask." Yeva hefted herself out of her chair, moving towards Alto—who began sputtering in outrage.

"Now wait just a minute! I—"

"Thought you could bully an old woman the way you do your pupils. You were wrong. You… are a coward young man—one who left a fellow guardian behind to save your own miserable hide. Now sit down, shut up—and learn something." She slammed her cane down on his desk, pointing to an empty seat in the front row; to my surprise, he complied, his face turning scarlet as his students jeered and laughed at what had happened.

"None of that!" Yeva eyed them all, scowling. "You are young—you must respect your teachers. They are older than you. When you are my age you can be as rude as you like… but even I still respect my elders. Or at least… I would, if there were any older than me."

She winked at the class, surprising me—it was a side of her I'd never seen. She was a natural born teacher—I'd known that from all the lessons she'd given me—but seeing her in a classroom setting interacting with others… it made me wonder why she hadn't gone into teaching once Mama was old enough for school.

"Let's see… where was Guardian Alto before he had his tantrum….? Ah yes. You." She pointed her cane at a sandy haired dhampir in the second row, "Tell me… what is the number one danger you will face when confronting your first Strigoi?"

"They'll be faster than me… and stronger." He smirked, confident in his answer.

"Incorrect. You will—"

"What?" Alto shot to his feet, scowling. "That's—"

"Quiet! I have the floor." Yeva glared at him until he reclaimed his chair, then focused on the class. "The number one danger isn't what they are… it's what they _were. _ You all think you will leave this place prepared to kill… but I tell you… that is wrong. You will look in their face… and you _will _hesitate for a brief second—thinking about the fact you are about to kill someone who was once just like you. I do not mean a dhampir or a Moroi or a human… I mean a living breathing _person. _ Your conscious will _make_ you hesitate, and that will make you lose your chance to make an offensive attack instead of just trying to defend yourself, hoping for a lucky blow. And I am sorry to say… it will happen every time you go to kill. If anyone tells you it won't, they are either lying or are not troubled by their own conscious."

"So how do we—"

"Listen and learn, child. There is only one way to avoid that hesitation—you _do not look_ at their face."

"If they don't look at their face, how are they supposed to know it's a Strigoi?" Alto asked sarcastically.

"You see… this is the problem. You do not teach the novices to use what God has given them. Why do you think dhampirs have enhanced senses, young man? Simply because we are half Moroi? No—because the Good Lord made us to fight evil. Strigoi are predators… but dhampirs are too."

"Are you actually standing there saying that Strigoi should _fear_ us? They're faster and stronger—"

"A king cobra is a horribly creature, yes? They are fiercely intelligent, fast… and they are the largest of all the venomous snakes on the planet—in fact… a single bite can kill an elephant." She stared at Alto as she leaned back against his desk, crossing her arms across her chest. "And yet… they fear the mongoose. A creature the size of a cat—one that is docile enough for people in some parts of the world keep them as pets. We are their predators, Alto—make no mistake of it. It is how it has always been—and how it shall always be."

"So if we don't look at them how do we know?" It came from a girl at the back of the room.

"Tell me Novice….?"

"Carslile, Ma'am."

"Novice Carslile… have you ever eaten something and a few hours later, you notice you can still smell it, as if it were seeping out of your pores? Say you had a meal that was strong with onion and garlic. Do you know what I mean?"

The girl's cheeks turned bright red. "I think so... The way people who drink a lot sometimes smell like alcohol?"

"Exactly. Now… Come up here and close your eyes. That's right…. Stand here by me. Keep them shut tight." Yeva held the corner of her shawl up near the girls face—the same corner she'd used to wipe the blood away from my face a few days before. "Tell me girl… what do you _smell?_ Describe it for me as if you were writing a story. Paint me a picture with your words."

The girl's nose crinkled and she leaned her head back. "It's… sweet… but not like.. in a good way… kind of musty and metallic underneath the sweetness… and a little sour?"

"Now imagine that smell… but even stronger. We eat many different kinds of food, so the smell changes—and some foods are not strong enough to affect our natural scent. But a Strigoi… they are gluttons. They fill themselves to bursting every time they feed, for the most part draining their victims dry. There are many ways to recognize a Strigoi that don't rely on sight, the first being that they have the lingering scent of blood about them, especially if they are hunting."

"Because they're too stupid to use cologne," Alto muttered.

"Ah—but you forget Alto… their senses are even more enhanced than a Moroi's. Perhaps some try to hide the scent with perfumes and sprays, but it deadens their noses even more than it does ours. A drop of perfume to a Strigoi is like a drop of blood to a hunting hound—it overpowers their sense of smell. I would think that would be something they tried to avoid, yes? But perhaps we should ask my grandson that since he can speak from his own experience."

Alto blushed, looking at the floor; Yeva had bested him again. "You may go sit down Novice Carslile. Thank you for your assistance."

The girl hesitated nervously. "But how else? You said use or senses… sight and sound are only two."

"Well I wouldn't recommend touching them—unless it is with a stake, so that one is out," Yeva said, smiling. "And I don't recommend biting them, since they will probably bite you back."

The class laughed, making Alto scowl even more and sink down in his chair. "They're silent—so you can't hear them either."

"Not true. If you listen closely enough, you _can _ hear them, but it takes practice and learning to shut out the other sounds around you," Yeva countered.

"Preposterous—they don't even have a heartbeat!"

"They do, though it beats much more slowly than ours. But I meant that you could hear them in the silence itself. A forest at night is full of life; crickets chirping and night birds calling—but they grow silent if a predator draws to near. Have you never noticed the way one moment the night air is full of their music and the next it is gone? It is the same way with a Strigoi. If a guardian _feels _ they are being stalked, the chances are that they are correct—it is a matter of learning to ignore the ambient sounds around them while still _listening_ for the oncoming attack."

"What do you mean… if they _feel_ like they are being stalked?" A dark haired boy this time—one who seemed far too small to be a senior.

"Ah, child. How do I explain it? Do you know how deer stills in the forest when they sense the wolf is nearby? It is an instinctive feeling of danger that we all have…" she glanced over at me, arching a brow—immediately I knew what she wanted; it was the same lesson she'd given me when I was about nine or ten. I stood up, walking over to hit the light switch; there were gasps and titters around the room, but they silenced at her sharp voice. "Do not make me angry class. I am trying to teach you. Everyone—close your eyes please."

What for? It's already pitch black in here and—"

"Close them!"

I toed off my shoes, quietly walking the perimeter of the room, listening to her as she spoke—telling them how in ancient times, dhampirs senses had been more honed than they were in modern days. As I silently weaved through the rows, she talked about how our people had lost touch with that important, primitive part of their brain; the more she spoke, the higher the tension in the dark room grew. My brother had played the predator for me, stalking me through a dark room the same way I was doing for the class—moving through the still darkness like a shark beneath the waves, searching for a victim. I did not worry about tripping or bumping into things—years of lessons like this had prepared me for my role; my senses were heightened and super aware, my body naturally avoiding obstacles as I walked.

I stopped by a desk in the middle of the room, just standing in the darkness and staring at the place where I sensed the Novice was sitting. A few moments later her voice rang out, trembling with fear.

"Can… can we turn the lights on? Please? I feel like something's here with us… I don't like it!"

"Does anyone else feel that way?" Yeva's voice was soft—yet I could hear the amusement in it.

"Uh… I do too. It's… creepy as hell." That came from the other side of me, the small boy she'd called on earlier.

"Language! Guardian Alto… would you turn on the lights please?"

He mumbled under his breath about wasting the classes time—bumping into a desk and cursing softly on the way to the door. When the lights flicked on, the students around me screamed—making my grandmother chuckle.

"That… is how you '_feel'_ someone stalking you children. I suggest you all practice this for yourselves on your own time. It is a lesson my grandchildren practiced until they could move through the darkness without making a sound, as graceful as tigers hunting in the night. Do you understand what I meant?"

There were quiet murmurs throughout the room; the class looked excited as they whispered among themselves—probably already making plans to practice in their darkened dorm rooms. Alto looked around the room, his face betraying his surprise; I wondered if it was the first time his students showed any enthusiasm for learning.

"There is another way you can _feel_ a Strigoi, but it comes with exposure and years of service." Yeva said softly. "In time… you will find you can sense when they are near. Not so much with the younger ones… but with the ones that have been around for decades… it is as if the weight of time gives a strength to their very presence. You feel it in your bones like an ache—"

"Alright—that's enough." Alto stormed up to the front of the room—probably assuming he could intimidate her with his size. It was a laughable thought, considering my brother had seven inches on the man and even he cowered when my grandmother glared. "Maybe they believe this the type of mumbo jumbo on the commune—"

Yeva cut him off with a sly, knowing smile. "How many Strigoi have you killed Guardian Alto?"

"That's none of your business." His hand went up to cover the back of his neck, his ears turning red.

"Five? Ten? Fifteen?" Whatever the number… I dare say I killed more." She gave him a bored look, tilting her head. "And I was only in service for a few years. You see… in my day, those of us that were willing did not hide behind wards like frightened sheep. We cleared the area around the towns, wiping out the vermin when it crept to close to our Moroi's homes. We hunted them… because _that_ is what predators are _meant _ to do. Part of the reason I left service was because our people had strayed too far from the old ways."

I saw a flicker of pain cross her face and knew she was thinking of the other reason—my grandfather's murder. Before I could move to make my way up to her side, Alto snorted.

"Save the fairytales for your grandchildren Mrs. Belikova. No one here wants to hear th—"

Startled gasps sounded throughout the room as my grandmother turned, removing her shawl; I knew what they were seeing without having to look. Growing up I had never questioned why my grandmother always wore a scarf around her neck or high necked blouses with close fitting collars—it was just something she'd always done, the way some of my friends grandmothers always wore curlers in their hair; it wasn't until last year when she'd fallen in the shower and needed help to stand that I saw what she had kept hidden for such a long, long time.

Molnijas—dozens of them, surrounded her promise mark, covering the wrinkled skin on the back of her neck. There was no Zvezda like Roza had, but there was another mark—one that I had never seen; judging by the look on Alto's face… he'd never seen it either.

"What is that one… the one shaped like a… crescent?" he asked, moving closer to examine it.

"A sickle," I said softly, my voice carrying across the hushed room. She had explained it's significance to me that day in the bathroom with a pained look in her eyes that had nothing to do with the fall she had taken—it had to do with the heavy weight of her memories.

"It is a serpovidno mark. They are rare… only given to guardians who's reputation matches the marks meaning." Yeva pulled her shawl up, hiding away what others would have proudly displayed. "The Moroi I guarded was reckless and headstrong—determined to go into areas that put him at great risk. He always invited someone I cared about to join him, knowing it would make me more…vigilant. It was a game for him… to put me in situations where he thought I would have to choose where my loyalty lay when it came to which Moroi I protected."

"But what does it mean?" Alto persisted, staring at her neck as if he could still see the ink, even though the shawls fabric covered her skin.

"In days long past…far before my time, Guardians bore the promise mark but were given an additional one as well. One that represented the Moroi they served—or in rare instances one that best represented the way they served their duty. Some received a cross or the crest of the Royal family they had pledged themselves to… I received the sickle. My Moroi… he was a favorite of the queen. She granted his request, not realizing he was not trying to honor me—but to remind me of something I hated."

"But why would that—"

"It reminded me that I was… different. Not like other women of my kind. A woman is meant to bring life into the world, Guardian Alto—and the sickle represents the opposite. Throughout the ages… who has carried one?"

He didn't respond, but the small boy did. "Death."

"Correct." Yeva shifted, uncomfortable for the first time since she'd moved to the front of the room—perhaps regretting her decision to show off her secret..

"Death? But why would that bother you? It's what we're trained to do?"

"I had a nickname when I was younger… zhatka dlya uborki… The reaper. I did not like it much."

"Then why not ask your charge not to call you—"

"It was not Vasily Zeklos that named me. It was the Strigoi." Her voice was flat and cold. "In testing me, my charge turned me into a raging beast—one who fulfilled her duty and protected the one she loved, at the cost of many, many lives. So you see young man… there is a reason my grandson is among the best. He is dedicated and loyal—and I taught him from the time he was old enough to stand on his own two feet. He was trained by the reaper to be an instrument of merciless death—a scourge to the Strigoi."

The surly guardian remained silent for a moment, before a calculating expression flickered across his face. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I watched him bow his head respectfully at Yeva—my wariness growing as he turned to address the class.

"For the remainder of the period we will have a question and answer session with Guardian Belikova—we should all take advantage of the rare opportunity to learn from someone with her experience." He pulled the chair out from behind his desk, offering it to my grandmother; she smiled, reaching up to pat his cheek, chuckling softly.

"You see boy? I told you that if you listened you would learn something today, didn't I?"

"That you did." His tone was apologetic, but there was an underlying hint of something else—I couldn't place it, but whatever it was, it bothered me immensely.

A hand shot up in the back of the room—the young girl Yeva had used for her demonstration about scents. "Can we ask Novice Belikova things too? About her classes at Saint Basil's?"

"Certainly—let's break into two groups. Anyone wanting to talk to Guardian Belikova, move to the front of the room. If you want to question Novice Belikova, move to the back." Alto leaned against his desk, looking almost smug—something my grandmother seemed to miss, since she was already surrounded by students.

My group was much smaller—which was understandable. I didn't have any marks, and I was a student just like them, so I was actually quite surprised than anyone would want to talk to me at all. Still, there were a half dozen novices who seemed to think I was interesting. I answered their questions as best I could, explaining the primary differences I'd noticed in my short time on their campus. I was in the middle of explaining how we had more classes each day when I heard the door open behind me, but I didn't turn around to look—not until I heard Adrian's voice.

"Guardian Alto—Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Vika… I mean… Novice Belikova." He looked over at me and winked.

"Is that your boyfriend? Carslile's voice was loud, immediately making me blush.

"Don't be stupid—he's a guardian," one of the boys said, moving closer to me. "He's way too old for her." He gave me a bright smile, leaning against the desk I was sitting on—so close his arm pressed against mine. "I have training next period—maybe you could stop by the gym and we could compare moves?"

Adrian scowled. "Sorry—she's going to be busy with her ancient, decrepit boyfriend, kid."

I stared at him, wide eyed—more thrilled than I'd imagined possible at hearing him call himself such a thing.

"Ohh you're lucky—he's hot!" Carslile giggled; the boy beside me took a giant step back, glancing nervously in Adrian's direction.

"Novice Belikova, you're excused." Alto said—that creepy smile reappearing on his face.

"Grandmother—"

"Run along—I'll be fine. We have a lot to discuss yet. Come back for me when the period is over, yes?"

"If you're sure," I said, my eyes flicking between her and Alto.

"Such a worrywart. Go—our kotik needs you." She smiled at me, waving me towards the door.

Casting one last glance at Alto, I grabbed my purse, trying to shake the tense, anxious feeling that had appeared as soon as I thought about leaving her alone in the room. I forced a smile on my face as I joined Adrian; automatically his hand moved to rest against the small of my back, steering me down the hallway. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"What the hell is it with male dhampirs? Is sparring some kind of courtship ritual?" He huffed, his hand sliding so that it rested on my waist almost possessively.

"It seems to affect Moroi the same way—after all, you found the idea pretty enchanting this morning," I teased, moving closer to him. "Think about it… it's a hands on, full body contact sort of thing."

"I'm not _that_ much older than you." He peered down at me frowning. "Does it bother you? The age thing?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I adore my mature older _boyfriend._" I arched a brow tilting my head flirtatiously—wanting to find out if he'd actually _meant_ it—but before he could respond, someone called my name from behind us. We turned to see Carslile running down the hall with a panicked look on her face.

"Guardian Alto… I don't know why… but he tried to grab your grandmother from behind. She—"

"He wanted to best her and soothe his stupid wounded male ego," I muttered, scowling. "I knew he was up to something, he had a sneaky look on his face."

"Well she knocked him off his feet… only he hit his head on the corner of the desk on the way down—he's not waking up! She sent me to get you—"

"Shit," Adrian murmured, grabbing my hand and hurrying back towards the classroom. "Of all the fucking people to have to—"

"Dusha—you can't! Not in front of a classroom full of students!" I whispered, glad Carslile had run back ahead of us to tell Yeva we were coming.

"I have to—I'll just pretend to do CPR." He made a face, jerking the door open, making a beeline for the fallen guardian—who appeared to still be unconscious on the floor. My eyes flicked to Yeva—her face was completely expressionless; she was leaning on her cane, staring down at the man as if he were a training dummy she'd just annihilated.

"What happened," I whispered fiercely, watching as Adrian bent over the man and pretended to give him mouth to mouth.

"He tried to surprise me. He failed." Yeva's eyes flicked over to the desk; there was a smear of red along the pointed corner. I leaned against it, shifting so my hip would wipe away the blood.

Alto coughed, opening his eyes; immediately Adrian sat back and wiped his mouth off, grimacing in a way that would have been comical under different circumstances. "You okay? You hit your head pretty hard."

"What happened?" Alto's eyes flicked from Adrian to the students that surrounded them; he looked befuddled, as if he had no idea what he'd done.

"You attacked my grandmother," I said, taking a step closer, "and she knocked you on your ass. In trying to prove you were better than her, you made yourself look like a fool."

"I was just trying to—"

"It does not matter. I have no more time to waste on your foolishness." Yeva glanced at the students, shaking her head. "I am sorry that I will not be able to answer any more of your questions, children. However, if you would like to write them down and give them to Guardian Petrov, I will try to write you out responses before I leave tomorrow."

The students groaned as she moved towards the door—I saw a look of regret flash across her face. She had genuinely been enjoying interacting with them, but I knew she did not trust herself to remain in the room with Alto for a minute more than she had to. "Novice Carslile," she called out from the door, "since you assisted me in getting my granddaughter… you may escort me to my room."

"Now wait a minute—"

"Unless your instructor would prefer to send someone to fetch Guardian Petrov so he can explain why I am so tired—I am sure that she would like to hear how he attacked an old woman." She held her arm out to the novice, casting a final glare at the guardian before shuffling out of the room.

"You really are a piece of work, aren't you Stan?" Adrian said, standing up and reaching for my arm and tugging me towards the door—probably realizing I was on the verge of kicking yet another guardian in the balls. "You're lucky we were still close enough to come back—though I'm starting to wish I'd just kept walking and left you on the floor."

I tugged my arm free, turning to glare back at the man. "Does anyone in this class speak Russian?"

When no one spoke up, I unleashed every curse I could think of on the man, my voice raising the longer I went on until I was practically screaming at the top of my lungs; Adrian grabbed my arm again, jerking me out the door and down the hall—where several instructors were standing, wondering what was going on. I continued to rant all the way out to the quad, though at a lower volume, finally stopping to take a breath when Adrian staggered a little. Immediately I slid my arm around his waist, steering him towards a bench.

"Dusha—"

"Give me a sec—that took more than I thought it would." His voice was strained and thin.

I brushed his hair off his face, my alarm growing as I noticed how pale he looked. "You shouldn't have—"

"Couldn't risk Yeva getting in trouble for defending herself." He gave me a shaky smile. "I was planning on taking you to the library… but I think I need to lay down."

"Come on—let's get you back to the room." I stood up, helping him to his feet. When he swayed, I slid his arm around my shoulders, shifting to counterbalance his weight. "Lean on me… save your strength."

"Appearances," he murmured, trying to straighten up.

"To hell with what people think—you're more important than they are." With me half supporting him, we crossed the quad; I cursed the stairs when they winded him, making him wheeze. Ignoring his protests, I shifted my body again, moving so I was in front of him and hefting him onto my back. He struggled—but stopped fighting against me when I pointed out he was going to make us both tumble down the stairs.

Yeva was in his room, sitting on the couch and reading one of Savva's journals; she didn't look up when we entered. "It is polite to knock."

"This is Dusha's room—and he needs to rest." I moved towards the bed but she glanced up, pointing at the door.

"This is my room—the two of you will share the other."

"But—"

"The longer you stand there arguing the longer it is before our kotik can get what he needs. Stop glaring at me and go put your man to bed Viktoria."

I scowled at her, backtracking out the door to the room across the hall. I laid him down as gently as I could, shoving my duffle bag off the bed so he could stretch out comfortably. He sighed, grabbing my hand and squeezing it weakly; I bent down, brushing my lips against his forehead, wishing there were some way I could help him.

"I need you to go to the library, please. Three of the books Lissa and I used have gone missing—they're not on the shelves and the librarian swears no one has checked them out… they just vanished without a trace." He took a deep breath, squeezing my hand again; he looked so worn out that even his eyes were dull and glassy looking. "I compelled her to make copies of some things from the books that were still there… but I don't know how long it will last—you need to pick up the copies before she snaps out of it and starts wondering why she made them."

"I don't want to leave you alone," I murmured, pressing my lips against the back of his hand.

"I'll be fine Angel. Remember what Yeva said? About them destroying books? We need those copies in case the rest of them end up disappearing."

I stared down at him for a moment, completely torn; nodding slowly, I moved the phone from the nightstand to the bed, placing it within reach of his hand. "If you need me, call me immediately. I mean it Dusha."

"Cross my heart and hope to—"

"Don't—don't say that… not even as a joke." I kissed him again before moving towards the door. "I'll be right back."

"Miss you already," he whispered, rolling over onto his side.

I was at the stairs when Yeva called out to me; I turned to see her hobbling down the hallway, holding the journal she'd been reading.. "In case you become bored on your errand," she said, pressing it into my hand. "I will look after him while you are gone."

"So why couldn't I just leave him in _your_ room?" I asked, irritably.

"Because the bed is bigger in that room," she answered cryptically, waving at the stairs. "Go—do what he asked. I must go sit back down—that fool of a guardian overexerted me."

I shoved the journal into my purse, muttering under my breath as I jogged down the stairs. The things I said weren't pleasant ones—I ranted about Alto and my grandmother, but mostly I cursed the element that held Adrian so tightly in its grasp. I didn't even attempt to rein in my bad temper—I knew it was keeping the bulk of my intense worry away; if my fear for Adrian's wellbeing gained the upper hand, I would run back to the room and refuse to leave again, no matter how much he might plead with me.

There was no sign of the librarian at the circulation desk; I rang the small bell a number of times, but no one ever appeared. Bristling with irritation, I glanced around, backtracking towards the door where a large map of the library was displayed on the wall to its right. I studied it, trying to figure out where the copy room might be—my best guess was a small room that was situated at the back that was labeled 'staff only', so that's where I headed. The door was open, and sure enough, a Moroi woman was bent over the copier—I called out, announcing my presence, startling her out of her wits.

She jumped at the sound of my voice, spinning to face me; I could tell by the dazed look on her face that she was still deeply caught in Adrian's snare. "I'm sorry—this area is off limits to students."

"I am not a student—I'm visiting the campus with Guardian Johnson. He sent me to fetch his copies."

"Oh… well you'll have to wait—I'm not nearly finished." She turned back to the machines, returning to her task—immediately forgetting my existence as she focused on what she'd been instructed to do.

Sighing, I retreated to the nearest chair, wondering if the compulsion would last long enough for her to get the job done. My eyes automatically ran over the nearest bookshelf, looking for something to peruse while I waited, but the section I was closest to appeared to be on Ancient Moroi Law—which was not something I was even remotely interested in. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the journal Yeva had handed me—not really interested in it either, but it was better than trying to read boring legal double speak that would probably put me to sleep in less than thirty seconds. Flipping through the pages, I barely skimmed them, not really paying attention to what I was looking at until a particular sentence caught my eye. Glancing up at the date, I surmised it had been written when my cousin was around my age—almost twenty years before.

_Today Sofochka fell into a deep melancholy; no matter what I said or did, I could not alleviate her misery._

It wasn't the first time he'd mentioned the woman's moodiness—throughout the volumes I'd leafed through, it happened several times. My heart went out to the girl for what she'd suffered, as well as to my poor cousin; it was easy to imagine how helpless he must have felt, watching and being unable to help her—but this time when I read about his girlfriend's condition… a prickle danced through my head.

_The doctors at the clinic are dumbfounded by her mood swings; they chalk it up to the insanity that is common in her bloodline, saying there is no cure—but I will not give up. I can't. I refuse to believe that she will end up locked away—such a thing would be a fate worse than death for both of us. I must continue to do what I can to ease back the press of her madness, no matter how much she protests._

I froze, rereading the passage, my fingers tracing along the words. The rest of the entry branched off, talking about other things; I began turning the pages, my eyes scanning each entry for another mention of the mysterious affliction—finally finding reference to it at the very back of the journal.

_Today Sofiya is not herself—I came home to find her in a destructive rage, acting more like an animal than a woman. She fought against me when I took her in my arms—screaming profanities at me as I tried to soothe her. Though I knew it was a dangerous thing to offer when her mind was so shattered, I held her close, urging her to —cont—_

I stared at the abrupt ending—he'd written all the way down to the very bottom of the last page; it was obviously continued in the next volume—which was all the way back in Yeva's room.

Cursing under my breath, I turned back to the very front, scanning the passages I'd barely glanced at when I first opened up the book—looking for any mention of the girl's mood swings or fits of temper. I found another one about twenty pages in—more descriptive than the last.

_I cannot help but wonder if the fact she did not specialize plays some bearing on the illness that plagues her mind. Everyone else has found a certain element that resonates within them, easy to rein in and control—but out of the entire academy, only my Sofochka does not have one that stands out. Perhaps whatever it is that inhibits her magic is what builds up inside her, making her act out? It is sheer speculation, of course; I do not know—no one does. At least we have found a way to fight off the worst of it—and I thank God above every night in my prayers for each brief respite I can grant her, and for whatever it is within me that soothes her aching mind._

The book fell from my hands, hitting the floor with a thud—the noise echoing through the large, cavernous room; several of the students milling about made loud shushing noises, but I barely even registered the sound or the looks of disapproval they shot me.

Because I understood everything.

Sofiya Badica was a Spirit user… and somehow… my cousin had been able to help her. I scooped up the book, my hands trembling as I turned back to the very last entry, rereading it carefully—but it was impossible to discern the secret without the rest of the entry. I needed the next book to figure out the puzzle—to figure out how I could help Adrian stabilize his element.

An ache started, right behind my eyes; almost as soon as I notice, it flared white hot—making spots dance before my eyes. The pain wasn't intense—but it was strong enough to let me know that I was finally on the right track. I shoved the book in my purse, hurrying back into the copy room.

"I have to go—right now. I can't wait. When you are done with those copies…" I searched my mind, trying to think of something that she couldn't overlook, even if the compulsion faded—but only one thing came to mind. I grabbed an oversized envelope from the shelf above her, scrawling out 'Guardian Johnson—in care of Alberta Petrov' across the front. "You will send them to Guardian Petrov's office—those copies are for a project they are working on. They have to have them right away. Do you understand me?"

She stared at me, her eyes widening; when she didn't answer I grabbed her arm, giving her a little shake. "Those copies must all be made and they _must_ go to Guardian Petrov. Do you understand?"

"Yes—" she reached out and took the envelope from my hand. "Send them in this… to Alberta Petrov."

"Thank you. Thank you very much. I am sorry֫!" I had to fight not to run out of the library; I walked so fast it was practically a jog, pushing my way past anyone who stepped in front of me without bothering to say excuse me—my rudeness didn't matter. Nothing did except the fact I needed to get my hands on the next volume; shoving through the door, I let myself go, sprinting as fast as I could—praying as I ran that I wasn't mistaken… that the answer I needed was at hand.

Yeva was waiting for me—standing in the doorway to her room, a small, knowing smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "So… you found the wisdom hidden in the poetry?"

"I need the next book! The last entry is continued—"

"No. Already I have dared too much by giving you _that_ journal. I have twisted things—I cannot risk changing them anymore." She stepped back into the room, moving to shut the door; I slammed my palm against it so hard that the door shook on its frame.

"I _have_ to have it—you don't understand! Sofiya was—"

"A Spirit user. Yes… I know. You cannot have the book—not right now. There is no time for reading—your Dusha needs you." She moved impossibly fast, knocking my arm away—slamming the door and locking it before I could move to stop her.

"But the answer is in it! Please!" I pounded on the door with my fists, screaming at her—but she wouldn't open it back up. "Grandmother—"

"You already have the answer—all of it. Use your mind Viktoria," she called through the door. " Yin and Yang—completion. Go do what you were meant to do child—hurry… time is scarce."

I might have stood there arguing had it not been for a strange noise that carried across the hall; it was almost a wail…like a soul in torment—it tore me away from Yeva's door, pulling me the ten steps it took to cross to the other side. I called out to him as I opened the door—my voice trailing off almost as soon as it began.

He was sitting in the middle of the floor—an expression on his face that was so heartbreaking, it immediately brought hot tears to my eyes; it reminded me of the way Paul had looked when he'd wandered away from us at the zoo and gotten completely lost. When we finally found him, he looked the way Adrian did now—terrified and alone and panicked.

He was sitting in the middle of the floor—an expression on his face that was so heartbreaking, it immediately brought hot tears to my eyes; it reminded me of the way Paul had looked when he'd wandered away from us at the zoo and gotten completely lost. When we finally found him, he looked the way Adrian did now—terrified and alone and panicked.

"Dusha… are you alright?"

"I can't find her," his voice was a broken whisper, so soft I almost missed it—yet painful and scratchy sounding, his throat worn raw from screaming.

"Can't find who?"

"I looked everywhere—but she's gone. Did I imagine her? Was it all a dream?"

I dropped my purse on the floor, moving closer to where he sat. "I'll help you look… but I have to know who it is that we're trying to find…"

"My Angel… she's gone." He looked up at me—but there was no recognition in his eyes; they were bleak and hopeless—the normal brilliant green completely dull and lifeless, like he'd lost the will to live. He stared right through me—not seeing _ me _at all.

"Your… but I'm right here—right in front of you . I'm not lost, moy Dusha—"

"Don't call me that!" He screamed, his hands clenching into fists. "Only she can call me that!"

"Adrian—"

"Is this a dream? Can you wake me up? Please? If you wake me up… maybe I'll find her. Yes—she's waiting for me to wake up. Have to wake up. Right now."

"You're awake… this is real," I whispered, fighting back a sob as I watched him—cursing myself for not reading faster… for not reading the rest of the entry.

"You don't understand! I have to find her! " He hadn't heard a word I'd said; he climbed to his feet and began to pace, tugging at his hair and mumbling so softly that I couldn't catch what he was saying—then he froze, grabbing his head in his hands and closing his eyes.

"Adrian…Dus— kotik…" I wanted to call out to him—to use the endearment he seemed to remember as my special name for him—but I didn't want to risk upsetting him even more. "Open your eyes, tom cat… let me see your beautiful eyes. Look at me… please?"

His eyes shot open—fastening on me; a soft cry escaped me as I started to tremble, not sure what I should do. There was a frantic, almost crazed look in his eyes; it terrified me, but I wasn't scared for myself—I was scared for him. Closing the distance between us I did the only thing I could think of; I kissed him—hoping the press of my lips against his would anchor him firmly in reality and chase away whatever horrifying visions were playing out in the depths of his mind.

Only… it did more than that—God above… so much more.

I don't know what exactly it was that caused it; I could say the Sight or claim female intuition—personally, I think it might have just been pure, dumb luck. But whatever it was that triggered it, as I kissed him, in the blink of an eye, all the information I'd ingested over the past few days suddenly aligned in my mind. The shocking discovery about my aura changing circled around Savva's entries about Sofiya, then all of that superimposed over the discussion we'd had on the plane and Yeva's enigmatic riddles. And I understood it all—the chiming in my head was so loud and clear that it sounded like a celestial chorus, telling me that finally… _finally… _I had it _right_.

The answer was something my grandmother and my cousin had—something that had passed from the very first seer of our bloodline, all the way down to me. It resided inside us, dancing through our veins, untapped and untouchable—powering our visions, expressing itself in the only way it could—so strong that it almost crippled us… because we couldn't use it. It was the secret missing ingredient needed to fill Yeva's hypothetical hole.

_"If there is a hole in the middle of the road, what must one do to fix it?"_

_"Fill it."_

_"Exactly. You are a wise man, Guardian Johnson."_

_"But how? How can you replenish something that is a part of you that's been used up?"_

_"If you have a glass of water that is empty and you thirst what do you do, kotik?"_

_"Refill it with water."_

_"Exactly. You see? Half of my riddle is already solved._

And now… I had solved the other half. Yin and Yang— a constantly changing balance between opposite halves of a whole; one cannot exist without the other—Yin creates Yang and Yang activates Yin in a never-ending circle, over and over again.

_It was time to fill up the hole._

"Come back to me, moy Dusha," I murmured against his lips, then pulled back—just enough to gently guide his mouth to my throat. I didn't care if people thought it was wrong or that they would judge me harshly for my actions; I knew what he needed—and I would give it to him, no matter what the cost. "Drink, moy lyubov'… drink and be well."

Bracing myself, I waited for the sweet sting of his bite; I waited for him to take what he needed to heal his broken mind—the unharnessed, unused Spirit that resided in my _blood_.

**_A/N Dear fanfiction . net : STOP REFORMATTING MY FUCKING TEXT. K? THNX._**

**_I have tried to correct the formatting on this about 15 times, but for some reason it keeps changing. The only things meant to be italicized are Savva's journal entries and the quoted discussion between Yeva and Adrian in the last section, as well as a few select words. Try and ignore any other large blocks of dialogue that the damn doc manager decides to reformat. I swear ths site is becoming so hard to use -.-_**


	16. Chapter 16: Daydreams

_Dear Diary,_

_I will let you in on a secret—it is something I believe that everyone knows deep down, but most people chose to ignore. Girls are not as sweet and naively innocent as they often pretend to be; they brag and swap stories and exaggerations about their sexual conquests the exact same way that boys do—and sometimes, I suspect, they can be even more graphic in their descriptions. The important thing in either case is to know how and when to separate fact from fiction._

_My sophomore year, Tzuzana Rostav bragged to all the girls in the locker room about how she often let the senior Moroi boys feed on her. I didn't believe her for several reasons—namely because the girl is a well-known liar who likes to make things up to get attention. While our classmates gathered around her, giggling and asking questions, I just rolled my eyes and tried to tune out her tales of the non stop ecstasy she felt when they sank their fangs into her skin. I dismissed the whole thing as another one of her fables, trying to ignore what she said. It wasn't until I heard the same thing from a far more reliable source last year that I realized I might have been mistaken in judging Tzuzu so harshly._

_One night, my sister Sonya stumbled into the house rather drunk; the noise she made was dreadfully loud, so naturally I went down to try and help her—hoping to silence her before she woke Mama and Yeva since they both needed their sleep. There were bite marks on her neck that she hadn't bothered to cover—she saw me staring at them and decided I was old enough to be enlightened about… certain things. Sonya described the act, detailing the endorphin rush—claiming it was a hundred times more powerful than the brief euphoria that sometimes hits when you push your body to its endurance point; according to her, it was like a never ending orgasm that kept crashing down over her again and again, until the pleasure drowned her—overwhelming her to the point where she practically blacked out. While she giggled and talked, her eyelids fluttered shut and her breathing sped—as if the mere memory of her forbidden tryst was powerful enough to reawaken the rapture that she'd experienced._

_I was expecting to feel the same thing after the initial sting from Adrian's fangs slicing into my flesh—only what I felt… well… it wasn't anything like what Tzuzana and Sonya had described at all._

_It was better—in a different, completely unexpected way._

There was physical pleasure, but it was just the normal enjoyment I'd feel at having him suck gently on my neck—my body's instantaneous reaction to having him so close to me, with his lips and tongue gently caressing my skin. What threatened to drown me was another feeling that was almost indescribable, something I felt on an almost _spiritual_ level—not a pleasure of the flesh at all, but rather one that came from somewhere much deeper and much more meaningful—my _soul._

It was a thousand times more intense than what my sister had relayed—the most powerful, perfect thing I'd ever experienced. Something that wasn't about sex or physical gratification or searching for the perfect high; it was a bigger than that—it was so much more important than any of those things. It was a moment of perfect synchronicity that stretched out endlessly as our energies blended; a feeling almost like our souls were reuniting for the first time since being torn apart at their inception. I could _feel _ them ebbing and flowing between us, merging together as he drank from me, and I swear that I could feel our _auras_ melding together too—throbbing in time to the beat of our hearts, accompanied by a sweet, chiming melody that echoed through my mind. As he fed, I understood what Yeva had meant about people missing the deeper meaning of such an exchange; the pleasure involved wasn't supposed to come from any stupid endorphin rush—it was meant to come from _this._

It was about nurturing someone that you loved—freely giving them something they _needed_, that only you could give them. It was like I could _feel_ his _soul_ healing itself with every swallow that he took, filling up the holes in his essence and repairing his poor, battered mind. Sharing blood _was_ the ultimate gift… not just for one of us but for _both_ of us at the same time—because I suddenly comprehended so, so much more than I ever dreamed was possible. I understood why Spirit users _had_ to use the magic, no matter how great the personal cost might be—it wasn't their power at all… they were only vessels for the Divine, borrowing the very energy that had brought about creation. The power to heal or bring someone back from the dead… that belonged to one entity—and sharing it bore a very high price.

Each time they channeled the magic, they lost a bit more of who they were—it was the supreme sacrifice… one of _self_.

My hands fell away from where they'd been cradling the back of his head, fingertips slowly traveling down the length of his spine; he moaned against my neck, pulling me closer to his body. That was all it took—suddenly, the dynamic shifted; a switch inside me flipped, unleashing a part of me that I hadn't even realized was there. In the blink of an eye, I became an aching, lust filled thing—the feeling of him gently nursing at my neck reminding me how his mouth felt doing the same thing somewhere much lower on my body; it spiked my desire from a slowly smoldering ember to a raging inferno that burned me to cinders from within.

I was hungry. Not for food or blood—but for _him_.

I wanted him without any preliminaries—no soft teasing kisses or caresses would do. I _needed_ him inside me, hard and fast, completing the current of energy between us as only he could do. My hands slid between us, caressing him through his jeans; the movement spread the fire from me to him like a lit match to gasoline soaked kindling—pulling a sound from his throat that could only be described as a growl. His hands tightened on my waist as he moved us, not stopping until my back hit the wall—pinning me against it with his body. I gasped as his mouth left my throat—his kiss swallowed my breath, his lips seasoned with the taste of my blood.

He tore himself away from my mouth, his eyes immediately locking with mine; his pupils were so enlarged that their blackness almost swallowed up the emerald color of his irises entirely. "Angel," he whispered, "I'm sorry… so sorry—"

He didn't finish the apology—his mouth crushed against mine, so hard that his fangs sliced my lips. I didn't care—his demanding, urgent kiss was exactly what I needed. I moaned against his mouth, pressing myself against his body, popping the button on his jeans and jerking down the zipper with so much force it broke—then my hand was sliding inside, his skin warm and silky against my palm.

The sound he made was eager and hungry; my pants were gone in a single rough jerk as he shoved them down my thighs. I cried out softly as his fingers slid against me—my hips thrust forward, grinding against them as I struggled to push the stiff denim down his legs. His hand moved away to grasp my hips, lifting me; I braced my back against the wall as I kicked my legs free of my jeans, immediately locking them around his waist to pull him closer—so close that I could feel him brushing against me, hard and ready. I gasped as he entered me; he swallowed my breath again—it didn't matter, I didn't need air… I needed him to _move._

He sensed what I wanted so desperately—or perhaps the same hunger that clawed at my insides was driving him too; he began to pound himself inside me, harder and faster than the first time we'd been together, staring directly into my eyes the entire time, never breaking our shared gaze. With each thrust my pleasure grew until I toppled over the edge, crying out his name as spots and sparklers danced across my vision; he stopped, buried deep within me—tightening his arms around my waist, moving away from the wall.

"Dusha…?" I gasped out—he silenced me with a kiss before pulling out of me, then lowered me to the ground.

There was a wicked smile on his face as his fingers hooked the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. My bra went next, his hands sliding over my breasts, gently exploring them as he whispered, "I want to watch myself slide in and out of your body Angel. Do you trust me?"

I didn't speak—I didn't have to; he knew what my answer would be. He turned me around, pulling me against his body as he bent me over the desk, pushing himself back inside me—immediately reclaiming the hard, fast rhythm he'd abandoned a moment before. I thrust back against him, mindless sounds of pleasure spilling from my lips as he buried himself deep inside my body—the pressure slowly rebuilt inside me, growing and expanding with every beat of my heart, even stronger than it had been before. His breathing grew labored as he lost his pace—collapsing across my back, his hips still bucked furiously as his mouth reclaimed my neck. When he bit down, I cried out—everything I had felt when he initially fed was there, only this time... it was tinged with our sexual pleasure too, meshing and honing the emotions and feelings until they were so intense I completely lost all sense of self. I couldn't tell where I ended and he began—we were just _one_ perfect entity… the way we were meant to be. I felt the warmth of his release filling me—a moment later, another orgasm hit; I thrashed underneath him, screaming out his name, my bliss so strong that I didn't process what was happening until it was far too late.

There was a sound—a cracking noise, like the ice on a lake breaking up in the spring—then I was falling; Adrian jerked us sideways—my breath was completely knocked out of me as I hit the floor, _hard_. For a moment, I laid there stunned, wondering what happened as I tried to remember how to breathe; I was trying to figure out why in the hell Adrian was chuckling breathlessly behind me, too.

"We broke it."

I moaned—his quiet laughter was making aftershocks dance up and down my spine. "What?"

"The desk." He tightened his arms around me, swiping his tongue against my neck. "We broke… the desk."

I tried to turn so I could see for myself, but his arms tightened around me, holding me in place. "Don't move… wait until the dopey feeling wears off, Angel."

"I'm fine." I squirmed—gasping as his hips bucked up against me.

"Sure you are. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about—"

"Adrian—seriously. I'm not high. Do I sound it?"

He moved, pulling out of me with a groan—propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at my face. "No but that doesn't mean—"

"The… whatever it is in your bite… it doesn't affect me. I didn't get the whole drugged up feeling—I promise."

His expression shifted; the contented look of pleasure vanished, pain flickering through his eyes. "I'm sorry… you should have stopped me. I never would have bitten you—"

"Shhh… I wanted you to. You didn't force me, Dusha. I offered it to you." I reached up, stroking my fingertips along his cheek. "How do you feel? Mentally, I mean?"

"Amazing—I can't really describe it. It's like… a fog has lifted—everything is clearer than it's been in years. Not since puberty hit, when I first started feeling… odd." His fingertips brushed along the side of my neck, his eyes locked on the marks he'd left. "I don't understand what happened—I don't remember anything after you left. How bad was I?"

"You didn't know me," I whispered, sliding my arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of me. "You looked right at me and said that you couldn't find me."

"It's like that sometimes… I black out. They call them fugue states." His entire body went rigid with tension. "You've seen me at my worst now… if you want out… I'll understand."

I chuckled, nuzzling along his jawline. "You don't get it… you're mine Dusha—and I'm yours. I figured out the riddle just in time. Remember what Yeva said—about refilling an empty glass? That's what just happened. We healed you—it's like… you're brand new."

"It felt different… I _saw _something—but I thought I was imagining it. That it was further proof how close I was to slipping away for good." His palm slid over the bite marks; I felt the soothing warmth of his magic caressing my skin as he healed them away.

"It was real. It was… wonderful. Like nothing I ever imagined. I could… _feel_ you. I know that doesn't make sense—"

"You brought me back," he murmured, staring down at me with awe. "But… _how?"_

"It's pretty simple… see, Moroi have fangs and when they bite down—" my words were lost in a squeal as he flipped us; now I was hovering over him with my hair hanging around us—a protective cocoon, separating us from the rest of the world.

"Smart ass. I understand _that _part."

"There's Spirit in my blood, Dusha. Spirit I can't access because I'm not a Moroi. It will never get used up or run out—not as long as I'm alive. It's yours… every single bit of it. Whenever you wear yourself too thin… it will heal you." I smiled softly at his look of stunned amazement, tracing my finger along his lips. "There are still a lot of questions we'll need to find answers to—but for now, we know how to heal you, and for me… that's enough."

"But… I'd be _using _ you. I don't want to do that, Angel." His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes filling with grief—as if just the thought tormented him.

"It's not like that… really." I caressed his face, my thumb sliding along his cheekbone. "When you were feeding from me… I had a vision. Well, not a vision really—that's a stretch… it was more like… a realization. You know how Yeva keeps saying Yin and Yang? I think that's it exactly—God created you to perform His miracles here on earth… but your mortal body can't handle the enormity of the power. It's why your… essence—for lack of a better word—gets used up. I think I'm the flip side of that coin—He created me to replenish what you use up performing those miracles. We're two separate halves of the same whole, maintaining balance between us. We need each other—maybe that's why I dreamed about you and why we've been so drawn to each other from the start."

"Divine intervention? That might be a stretch, Angel."

"No—Divine _invention. _There's a difference—we're fulfilling the purpose we were created for." I kissed him, just a soft brush of my lips against his, silencing any further questions. In time, we would find the answers—but for now, I just wanted to bask in the knowledge that when he was lost in the dark, my light would always guide him, helping him find his way back home.

We moved to the bed, cuddling together, exchanging gentle kisses and caresses as he cradled me against his chest. Long after he drifted off, I lay awake, my fingers tracing abstract patterns along his pale skin; I did not begrudge him his rest—he needed it—but for me, sleep was illusive and would not come. My mind was far too active, refusing to still; as the enormity of my revelation wore off, a thought occurred to me—that one thing kept circling round and round in my head. It was something Adrian had mentioned in passing when he'd tried to calm me down.

_'sometimes… I get glimpses of things—nothing as strong as you do or your grandmother—but hints of things.'_

It was a ridiculous thing to dwell on; I should have been happy at discovering how to help him—focusing on what was real. Instead, I was fretting about something that was probably nothing more than a hallucination brought about by some deep seated fear of abandonment he had because of what Roza had done—working myself up for no reason at all. I told myself I was just being foolish; there was no way what Adrian had seen was a premonition of things to come; I would never abandon him or leave him alone. Once I graduated, we would figure things out, and no matter what happened, he would never have to search for me; as long as he needed me, I would be there for him—it was as simple as that.

Still, it was hard to ignore the icy prickles that caressed my spine and filled me with unease. As if he sensed my dark thoughts even in his sleep, his arms tightened around me, lips pressing against my temple. When I finally drifted off, it was to the sound of his heart beating underneath my cheek—the rhythmic throbbing slowly drowning out the haunting memory of how broken his voice had sounded as he tried to find his Angel.

I awoke hours later to the sound of raindrops spattering against the window; it was twilight and the room was chilly, but I couldn't find it in me to care—the body beside me was more than enough to keep me warm. Snuggling closer, I cracked open my eyes to find Adrian gazing at me with a bemused smile on his face.

"You talk in your sleep."

"I do not," I murmured. I was still practically asleep, for all intents and purposes—in that dopey, hazy state where it is far, far easier to let sleep reclaim you than to fully awaken.

"You do—in Russian. It's very inconsiderate—I couldn't understand what you were saying." His voice was gentle and teasing, almost as soft as the brush of his fingers as they traveled along my cheek. "Were you dreaming about me?"

"Always." I smiled, burrowing closer to him. "You should have come into my dreams, you're always welcome there."

"We're still not sure if that's safe," he reminded me, lips brushing my forehead. "I don't want to risk you wandering off again like you did the last time."

"Fine… your loss, considering it was a _very_ sexy dream." I slid my leg up over his, bumping my hips against him. "We were all covered in paint and—well… never mind."

He growled, rolling on top of me and pinning my hands above my head. "It's not nice to tease a man first thing in the morning, Miss Belikova."

"It is not teasing if I fully intend to _show_ you what we were doing, Lord Ivashkov," I whispered, smiling against his lips as they pressed down on mine.

He made an appreciative sound as he pulled back, smiling down at me. I studied him, searching for some sign of what had taken place between us; the most noticeable thing was his eyes—they were clearer and brighter than I had ever seen them, almost luminous in the pale, late day sunlight that was filtering through the window. Laying there, with the warm, solid weight of his body pressing down against me, I thought about how surreal our situation seemed. Four days ago neither of us knew the other existed—he had been nothing more than a mysterious boy that haunted my dreams, filling me with longing—but now… now, I couldn't imagine waking up without him beside me.

"Penny for your thoughts... though I might be willing to up it to a quarter if they're sexy ones."

I smiled. "I was just thinking how strange this is… it's hard to believe we've only known each other a measly four days—it feels like I've known you forever."

"Mhmmm. I feel the same way." His released my hands, his fingertips trailing down my arms in a way that made me tremble.

"It's all happened so fast… is that normal?" Perhaps it was a silly question, but other than Rolan, my dating experience was virtually non-existent. I hung out with male friends of course, but it was always in a group; I'd never been a part of a couple—if that's what we were—so it was all completely new to me. I had so many questions about love and relationships, but no one I could ask; my sisters always responded with 'don't worry about it until you're older', and Mama… well, Mama was a romantic at heart, like me. We both believed in love at first sight—something Karolina and Sonya scoffed at; I had no idea how my brother felt about such a thing. The first time he met Roza, did he feel a spark ignite within him? One that grew stronger and stronger until it blazed out of control? Those were the things I wanted to know, but they were things I knew he would feel uncomfortable discussing—so I certainly couldn't ask him.

"I'm not the best judge of what's normal, Angel—I've only been seriously involved with someone one time."

"Roza." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "That happened fast too—not the relationship… that took a long time to come about and even then… it was pretty one sided. But falling for her? That happened the first time I saw her."

"I see." Two simple words, but my voice betrayed the hurt his statement had aroused within me.

"I don't think you do. What I'm trying to say is… I never felt that way before… and I was sure I'd never feel that way again. I was wrong—I felt that way about you. When you turned around that night and our eyes met… I felt it."

I opened my mouth to respond, but his lips against mine silenced me; when he pulled back, a teasing smile twitched up the corners of his mouth. "Now… what were you about to say?"

I racked my brain, but all I could think about was the softness of his lips and the teasing brush of his tongue caressing mine. " I don't remember, damn it."

He laughed, looking a bit smug as he gazed down at me. "Good—that was the plan. I don't want to spoil our day with talk of _her_—I want to focus on being here with _you._"

"That was a very smooth line, Ivashkov," I teased, drawing my fingernails lightly along his skin; he moaned softly, dropping his head down to nuzzle along my neck.

"You know… you _could_ finish your schooling here just as easily as at Saint Basil's—then you wouldn't have to go back to Russia… you could stay with me."

For a moment I indulged in the fantasy; I pictured the two of us living here on campus—meeting up for lunch and stealing kisses between my classes. I imagined us spending all our free time together without having to worry about my brother interrupting. I could see myself curled up beside him as I studied, waking up every day wrapped securely in his arms. He made it sound so easy and attainable—and I wanted it… God, I wanted it so much, but I knew it wasn't that simple.

I sighed. "I'd love to… but my mother would never agree. I don't think Yeva would either—she went to Saint Basil's too… it's sort of a family tradition."

He pulled back, looking so upset that I immediately felt the overwhelming urge to reassure him—to erase the sadness that my words had awakened in his eyes. "I'll talk to them. Maybe they will understand if I tell them I need to be with you—"

"No… it was selfish of me to suggest it. It's your last year… you'd have to leave all your friends—"

"There isn't a single person on that campus I care about, Dusha. Being with you means more than graduating with my class."

"You'd be leaving your family too. It'd be a little too far for weekend trips home," he pointed out, worrying his lower lip with the tip of a fang. "It makes more sense for me to move there—it's easier, and it's not like I've got anything tying me to Court."

"Your mother," I said softly.

"Who is in prison for God knows how long—and even if she wasn't… we aren't exactly close, Angel. Not like your family is."

I hated the thought of him not having the kind of family I did—one where love and affection were given freely, even though sometimes it smothered me. "That could change—"

"I've tried. Believe me… she'll never change. She's a cold woman—even with her only child." He stroked his index finger along the bridge of my nose, smiling. "I'm moving—it's not up for debate. So tell me what to expect."

I wrinkled my nose. "What do you mean?"

"When I come there… what will it be like?"

"Like living anyplace else, of course."

He groaned, dropping his head to my shoulder. "Don't say it like that. Come on, it's a lazy, rainy morning—the perfect atmosphere for daydreams. Didn't you ever do that as a kid? Lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, imagining what things would be like when you were grown up? Give me a daydream—something I can hang on to."

I frowned, closing my eyes as I pondered how to respond; it wasn't that I didn't know what I wanted the future to hold—I did, though surprisingly enough, a key element had changed in the short time I'd known him. Before my trip… I would have said the only thing I really wanted was to get out of Baia; I'd been dreading graduation because it meant settling down into a life of drudgery. There had been no prospect for excitement in my future—it would be filled with an endless stream of dead end, dreary jobs like the ones my sisters held, and eventually having children. But now? A future in Baia didn't seem so bad, if Adrian would be there with me. The fact I didn't want him to feel like I was rushing him into things was an important factor too—I didn't know how freely I should speak or how much I should hold back.

"Did you fall back asleep?" He whispered.

"No—sorry. I was just gathering my thoughts." I opened my eyes, gazing up at him, wondering what he wanted to hear. "Would you want to live in the city… or in my commune?"

"I don't know…" he tilted his head, his brow wrinkling as he thought about it. "I've never really lived anywhere but Court or at an Academy—protected by the wards. What do you think?"

"Up until I met you… I would have said the city, but now… I sort of like the idea of living in Baia near my family. I always had this… desire… to travel and meet people, but since we met… I don't know… that doesn't seem as interesting or important as it did before."

"Because you've already met me—your subconscious knows that I'm the most interesting person alive," he offered, his expression completely serious. "Which would be safer? I don't want to be worrying about Strigoi attacking every time I step outside."

"That's a tough call. There are frequent attacks on the communes, but it's the settlements that are the farthest out that they seem to focus on. Baia has never been attacked in all the years we've lived there—though I have to be honest… the roads into town aren't safe to travel once the sun sets." I chewed at my lip, contemplating some of the stories Nikolai had shared with me—things his brother had disclosed about Strigoi attacks in Novosibirsk. "If we lived in Baia, you could walk around town without worry—you couldn't do that in the city… Strigoi hunt there. Though I have never understood how it is humans don't realize it when they see them—"

"I never understood it myself until I saw it firsthand—they blend in with the crowds. Lots of humans are pale so they don't think anything about it, and people usually don't look strangers in the eye, so I guess they don't notice the red."

I was shocked—not many unguarded Moroi had seen a Strigoi and lived to tell the tale. "You saw one?"

"Several of them. They attacked us in Vegas." His jaw tensed, his body going rigid as his eyes flicked over to the window. He was avoiding my gaze… but why?

"How are you alive? What—"

"You don't want to know all the gory details Vika—trust me. "I'm lucky I was with Rose—it was more interested in her than me."

It struck me then—ice cold fingers of dread brushing along my spine. "It was my brother… wasn't it?"

"Yes. I've never been more scared in my life. He only looked directly at me for a minute, but the expression on his face was something I'll never be able to forget. He wanted to kill me… not because I was a Moroi and he wanted my blood—because I was there…with _her._"

I shivered, thinking about what my brother had said the night of Lissa's party. "You were infringing on his territory. Not the location … his woman."

"That's it exactly. It was like staring into the eyes of a shark—cold and lifeless, without any sign of empathy." His voice was low—just the memory of the encounter seemed to leave him shaken. "Needless to say, I'd prefer to live in a place where I'm not going to wind up someone's dinner."

I tightened my arms around him, shoving aside the horror I felt at hearing about Dimitri in that form—trying to find something that would distract him from his memories. "Well… there is one danger in Baia I don't know if you can handle….it is a very uneventful place. You'd probably be bored to death within a week—there's not a lot to do there."

"If you're there I'll be fine—we can always find _something_ to keep us occupied." His eyes returned to mine, full of relief; he'd caught my attempt and appreciated it, grasping the subject change firmly with both hands. "So it's settled—we're living in Baia. House or apartment?"

"As long as we're playing make believe… a house—and I know exactly which one."

"Let me guess, a great big palatial looking mansion?"

"Hardly—I'm not that kind of girl, Dusha," I chastised softly. "It's on the same street as Mama's house—three doors down. It's been empty forever—the owner died when I was twelve."

He pressed a kiss against the tip of my nose, smiling. "And you've had your eye on it all this time?"

"Actually… believe it or not… yes. It's kind of run down looking now since no one has been maintaining it, but I still think it's the prettiest house in Baia—it's one of the only ones with nalichnik."

"Huh?"

I laughed at his confused expression, pushing him off of me and sliding out of bed to hurry across the chilly room to grab my purse. Shivering at the chill in the room, I raced back over and climbed under the covers before I dug around in my bag, searching for the small photo book I'd brought from home. "I think I have a picture of it—I brought Dimitri copies of the photographs I took when he and Roza visited. I haven't had a chance to give it to him since we keep squabbling every time we see each other. Ah—here it is."

He propped himself up against the headboard, sliding an arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer as I flipped through the pages. "Wait—go back. Is that your house?"

I turned back to the photo in question; Mama and Yeva were standing on the front porch on either side of my brother. "Mhmmm—it's nothing fancy, but that's where I grew up."

"Big guy looks happy."

"He was—it was his first real visit home since her graduated." I flipped a few more pages, stopping at the photo I'd been searching for. Dimitri and Roza were peering in the windows of the house I'd mentioned—perhaps indulging in their own game of make believe, imagining settling down to a quiet life in Baia. "This is it—see the windows? That's nalichnik."

He studied it a moment, eyes narrowed. "It looks kind of like snowflakes, doesn't it?"

"I never thought of it that way, but yes, it does. It's wooden lace. A lot of houses in Russia have it, but not so many in Baia. Sometimes there are protective symbols carved into the design."

"It's pretty—very aesthetically pleasing." He pulled the album out of my hand, examining it closely. "How big is it? It's hard to tell with your brother in the picture—he makes everything look miniscule."

"Not very—it has three bedrooms and a bath upstairs, and the downstairs has the kitchen and living room, as well as a dining room and a small storage area. But it has a cellar too—and the former owner added a large room on the back of the house, right off of the kitchen. He liked to garden and wanted a room where he could sit and look out at his flowers—a… how do you say it here… solarium?" I glanced over at him, hoping I hadn't misspoken—more than a little self-conscious about my grasp of English. "It has huge floor to ceiling windows, but he had them coated, so they in lots of natural light but the film filters out the UV rays—he was a Moroi, so he had to watch out for that sort of thing. It would make an excellent place for an artist to work—a talent like yours should not go to waste."

He smiled, leaning his head against mine. "I probably wouldn't have much time for it—I don't know the exchange rate, but the money Tatiana left me won't last forever. I'll have to get a job—though I don't have the faintest idea what I can do."

"That _would_ be your job—we're imagining, right? So anything is possible," I pointed out.

"Maybe I don't just want it to be imaginary, Angel." He ran his fingers over the picture, looking almost wistful. "Maybe I want it to be real—you and me living in this house, walking down the street to visit with Yeva and your mother. Knowing that I can take care of you—and them too, if they needed it."

"Well being an artist _is_ a real job, you know. You could take commissions or—"

"That won't guarantee the bills get paid, sweetheart."

"You act as if I expect you to support me or something—I don't. I'd be working too—I have to get a job as soon as I graduate… and I've already got an offer."

"An offer to do what, exactly? Guard someone?"

"No—Abe said I could work for him from home. I'm sure he'd pay me more than enough to—"

"Ohhhh no. Not a chance." He cut me off, shaking his head emphatically. "You don't want to get mixed up in that shit, Vik—who knows what he'd expect you to do."

"He said it wouldn't be anything immoral—he asked if I was good with figures, so I think it's probably bookkeeping or something."

"Or maybe he wants you to go around and collect debts for him—break people's kneecaps if they don't have the interest figured exactly right."

I blinked several times, caught completely off guard by the suggestion; as naive as it might be, _that_ was one scenario that hadn't occurred to me. "I don't think he'd do that… he said that it would be something Mama and Yeva approved of—and they certainly wouldn't approve of me acting like an enforcer or hired thug. Besides… he's already got people who do that, right?"

"I suppose—we never exactly discussed his business ventures." He laid the album across his lap, turning the page. The next image was one of Dimitri and Roza cuddling on the couch; her face was turned up to his, her lips curving up in a teasing smile.—I'd caught them on the verge of kissing. I glanced at him, worried the sight would upset him, but he seemed fine—he didn't even make a snide comment, he simply turned the page, flipping through the album and examining the pictures. "You're a pretty good photographer—you have an eye for it."

"I enjoy it—it is one of my few hobbies, though I mostly take pictures of landscapes and nature, not people."

He turned another page, his brow furrowing; the arm around me tightened as he frowned down at the album. "Who's that?"

I glanced at the picture, arching a brow; it was a picture Dimitri had taken of Nikolai and I sparring in the yard—Rose was looking on, studying our form intently. "Koyla? He's one of my classmates. He challenged me to pin him—I think he was trying to show off for my brother."

He muttered something under his breath—it sounded suspiciously like 'fucking male dhampirs'. I rested my head on his shoulder, trying not to smile—his entire body was stiff with tension. "He's just a friend—I've known him forever."

"Those are the most dangerous kind." He scowled at the page, looking so ferocious that I couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you jealous, moy Dusha? You shouldn't be—I never even kissed him… though he has a little crush on me." I couldn't resist needling him just a little.

"Of course he does—that's the way my luck runs. I meet a beautiful girl and she's already got a muscle bound oaf panting after her. Now I'm _definitely_ coming to Russia—I'll make damn sure he knows there won't be anymore 'sparring' in the future." He turned the page, his scowl fading as he gazed down at the page—it was one of me holding Katya, Sonya's baby girl. I was making a funny face as she smiled and patted my cheeks. "Who's kid?"

"My sister Sonya's. She's a very good baby, she hardly ever fusses." I refrained from mentioning who her father was—or that she'd inherited his eyes.

"How many kids?"

"Sonya? Just the one—"

He chuckled, closing the album and setting it on the nightstand. "I meant in our daydream… how many kids do you see in it?"

I blushed, burying my face in his shoulder. "I never really thought about it."

"Do you want kids?" His fingers traced along my arm, raising chill bumps on my skin.

"Eventually… when I'm older."

"So… eventually… how many?"

I thought about it for a minute. "Two—a boy first… then a girl. Every little girl should have a big brother to look after her."

"I agree—I always wanted a little sister, but I guess my parents didn't feel the same way. But I was thinking more along the lines of four… two of each." He moved—suddenly I was pinned to the bed staring up at him; he hovered over me with a determined look on his face. "Now I have a goal to work towards… making those dreams come true."

I smiled—he sounded so earnest it was impossible not to. "What about you—what do you want? Your dreams are important too, Dusha."

"I only have one dream… to be happy with someone who loves me. Everything you want… it's what I want too—I just didn't realize it before." His head dropped down, lips trailing along my jaw; his hand moved down, sliding my leg up over his hip as he settled himself between my thighs.

"Some of those things might happen a whole lot sooner than we are ready for if we're not careful," I whispered—it hadn't escaped my attention that we'd forgotten to use protection again.

His lips traveled upward, warm breath tickling my ear. "It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing—might change your brother's stance on the two of us. Instead of trying to keep us apart he'd start planning a shotgun wedding."

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my expression stern—ignoring the way my stupid heart turned somersaults at the thought of having his child. "I may not be an expert on matters like this, but I _definitely_ know that discussions about babies and shotgun weddings are not something normal people have within a week of meeting."

"So we're abnormal—who cares. Besides… time is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things."

"You realize that if we ever have kids together… they'll be dhampirs, like me," I asked, softly. "From what you've said about your parents… they probably wouldn't be too happy about that."

"I don't give a shit what they think—I happen to be extremely fond of dhampirs… especially the one that's sharing my bed. Maybe I need to prove it to you… just to ease your mind."

His mouth found my breast, tongue swiping across my nipple; I gasped, arching up against him, but I could not allow my desire to cloud my common sense. "Do you have the condom I gave you?"

He groaned—I took it as a definitive 'no'.

"You didn't bring any with you, did you?"

"No I didn't—I was trying to be noble and slow things down, remember?"

I cursed softly in Russian; my body was trying to override my brain—definitely not a good thing. "I don't suppose the student store—"

"They don't—and they don't give them out in the clinic either." I arched a questioning brow, earning a chuckled in response. "I checked yesterday while you were in class—after the incident in your cousin's cabin… I thought we'd probably end up needing them."

I closed my eyes, toying with the idea of risking it—but we'd already pushed our luck, and sooner or later, our carelessness would catch up with us. "I am trying to be strong… but it's very hard to do with you on top of me."

"Tell me about it." He rolled off me, staring up at the ceiling. "We've just got to get through today, then we'll be back at Court. We can wait—"

"Speak for yourself," I muttered darkly, cursing myself for not being prepared.

"While we're here you could always talk to Olendzki—she's a doctor… she could write you a prescription. I mean… you're not a student here and you're eighteen, so it's not like she'd need parental consent. Won't do us any good for a couple of weeks, but at least we won't have to worry about condoms after that."

"Great—so they'd kick in right in time for me to go home."

"True—but I'm trying to plan ahead. I figure I can get everything wrapped up and join you in about a month—if they'll let me stay on campus, that is."

I rolled over, studying his profile. "Do you really mean that? You want to come to Saint Basil's?"

"I want to be near you, Angel." He smiled, still gazing up at the ceiling. "Provided you want me there, of course."

"That should be a no brainer." I smiled, snuggling up next to him. "But Dusha… if you change your mind… I'll understand. Your mother could be released or—"

Doesn't matter—I'm coming. Once my mind is set on something, that's it, I don't change it—just ask Rose."

"Then I'll talk to the doctor today and get everything sorted out."

He rolled over to face me, pulling me closer. "This being responsible thing is new to me—I have to admit… it feels pretty good. Mentally, I mean. Physically… it's fucking agony. I want you so much it hurts."

"It's only for today, remember?" I teased, burying my face in his neck.

"It will feel like a week."

"A month," I countered.

"A year plus infinity." He tickled my side, trapping me in place with his leg so I could not escape.

"No tickling! That's not fair Dusha!" I giggled, trying to wiggle away—my laughter dying off at the sound of a knock on our door. The interruption tarnished my happy mood a little—I cursed, glaring up at the ceiling, contemplating murder. "Just once I would like to be able to enjoy waking up next to you and spending the morning in bed without someone banging on the damned door."

"Technically we've been awake for a while sweet cheeks." He chuckled, rolling off me—slapping me on the ass as I climbed out of bed. I reached down, grabbing the nearest article of clothing—which happened to be his t-shirt. "Probably Yeva—we slept through dinner last night. It's almost seven—bet she's here to demand we get up and take her to breakfast. I could always pretend to still be asleep—maybe then she'll go away."

"Yeah right." I tugged the shirt on, frowning; it covered everything—but barely. Glancing over to make sure he was covered up, I stormed over to the door, jerking it open, just as the banging began again. "We're up already! You don't have to—"

"They don't even start serving food until eight, Babushka Yeva." Adrian called from behind me.

The thing is… it wasn't my grandmother.

Alberta Petrov's eyes widened at the sound of his voice; she reached out, pushing the door open wider, staring at the bed with a shocked look on her face. "How in the hell did you get on campus?"

Adrian's eyes shot open at the sound of her voice. "Allie—uh… hi. Surprise?"

"Don't you Allie me! What in the hell are you doing here? Who let you through the gate?"

"You did." I crossed my arms, leaning against the door frame. We'd been caught red handed—there was no use trying to cover it. "He's Guardian Johnson—he used Spirit to disguise himself."

Her gray eyes widened even more as they flicked between us. "I knew it—I _knew_ there was something familiar about him! God damn it Adrian—what in the hell are you thinking? Dimitri will be infuriated when he finds out this is going on!"

"He'll only know if _you_ tell him," Adrian pointed out, stretching like a contented cat.

"Shit. Shit shit shit! Don't do this to me—please. Do _not_ put me in the middle of all this Adrian!" She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.

There was a low chuckle from the hallway behind her. "Well… I see I do not have to wake you. Good morning Madam Petrov—did you come to take us to breakfast?"

"You knew about this too?" Alberta turned, scowling at my grandmother.

"Knew about what? The fact they are two naughty, lazy children?" Yeva smiled at the guardian, brushing past the other woman. Sticking her head in the doorway, she shot Adrian a threatening glare. "It is time for you to get up, kotik—we have many things to do today. No more lounging about in bed—you have five minutes or I will drag you out by your ear."

"Did you need something Guardian Petrov," I asked, trying to ignore the adorable way Adrian responded to my grandmother's threat—he chuckled, blowing her a kiss. "Or were you just checking up on me?"

"This was outside my office door when I got there this morning," she held out an envelope—the one I'd scrawled her name on in the library. "I wanted to know why Johnson was gathering information on Spirit… but I suppose that's pretty obvious now that I know the truth."

"There are books missing from your library, Allie—ones that contained information on Spirit. I thought it was best to get copies of what was left before they disappeared too."

"We're not missing any books—"

"You are. Ones that Lissa and I used before she graduated. The librarian insists they're on the shelves… but I'm telling you they're gone." He stood up, carefully winding the sheet around his waist to keep himself covered as he swaggered towards us. "Someone took them—the question is… why?"

She stared at him a moment, her jaw tensing. "Maybe they want to know more about the element."

"Mhmmm. Maybe. The interesting thing is… no one touched those books for years before we found them—they were on an upper shelf, covered in dust. Now suddenly someone wants to know more… after a Spirit user gets elected Queen. Kind of makes me wonder if they're afraid of her element and want to find out _exactly _how powerful she might be—or how they can use the information to mold her into what they want." He brushed past her, wandering across the hall. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get my things. When Yeva took over my room she apparently didn't think I'd need clothing."

"Obviously she was right," Alberta pointed out snidely.

"I'm always right," Yeva quipped, peering up at her. "They are taking far to long—I will starve to death before they are dressed and ready. You may walk me to breakfast."

"Me?" Alberta looked startled. "I'm sorry—I can't. I need to get to work."

"In due time—I need to speak with you about your faculty. They are not properly preparing the students. We will talk as we walk, yes?" Yeva headed for the stairs, stopping on the first step when she realized the guardian had not moved. "Hurry up woman—you are slower than a tortoise! Viktoria—you will attend training today. No more hanky panky this morning—understood? Send our kotik to join me for breakfast as soon as he is dressed."

"Yes grandmother."

"Is she always like this?" Alberta whispered, her wide as they flicked from Yeva to me.

"No—" I muttered back as I moved to shut the door, "—sometimes she is much, _much_ worse."


	17. Chapter 17: Family Honor

_Dear Diary,_

_I will never understand why people make jokes about women and girls taking a long time getting ready; unless I am preparing for a special event, I can usually be ready to walk out the door in less than five minutes time. Maybe it is different for other girls, but I don't see the point in spending an hour applying makeup and styling my hair—especially not for something like attending classes. I mean… we are there to learn, not to take part in a beauty pageant, you know? And why waste time getting all made up to run errands or go to the store? I can appreciate wanting to look your best, but in my opinion, to do so much that it requires hours of preparation is just plain foolish._

_I certainly never realized that some men spend a ridiculous amount of time preparing themselves to face the world. I mean what in the hell do they have to do besides shower and shave and change clothes? The only man I ever shared living space with is my brother, and he is like me—ready to go at a moment's notice with minimal effort required. _

_Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Adrian._

I was showered and dressed long before he was—in fact, he took so much time getting ready that I ended up having to leave him a note before sprinting across campus to the gym. Even with my rushing, I was late—the class was already in session; Emil was lead instructor again, but he was solo this time. To my immense relief, Maclamore was nowhere in sight—probably due to his dislocated knee and wounded male pride.

The group was made up of a completely different group of novices, however, I recognized a few of their faces from the academic classes I'd visited; several of them had been in Alto's classroom the day before—they were the ones that immediately started whispering the moment I walked in.

"What is this? Where are our manners?" When Emil held up his hands, silence filled the room. "I take it some of you have met Novice Belikova?"

"Her grandmother knocked Alto out," chirped a small blonde girl—she gazed over at me with awe. "I've never seen anyone move so fast!"

"She did?" Emil glanced over at me, arching his eyebrows.

I shrugged. "He tried to get the jump on her—she is old, but spry for her age."

"Can we practice the stalking exercise Guardian Belikova showed us yesterday?" This time it was a boy—the one who'd irritated Adrian by insinuating he was too old for me.

"Alright class—simmer down. I will visit with Novice Belikova to discuss what it is that has you all worked up while you finish your warm ups—then we will begin our lesson." He turned to me, a look of interest on his face. "What does this exercise entail?"

I explained briefly, my eyes darting around the gym; there was much more room to move about without fear of bumping into things—big enough that we could elaborate on the lesson, making it into a game. "Have they learned to stake yet?"

"The fundamentals, why?"

"I thought that perhaps if you wanted to do my grandmothers lesson… we could change it up a bit. They will expect us to just stand and stare at them the way I did yesterday—but we could actually attack them from the darkness… and perhaps give them practice stakes to defend themselves with. It would give you a chance to see how they respond and perhaps make note of who freezes up and needs more training."

He thought about it for a moment, glancing out at the students. "I like it… but we'll need more guardians for it to be effective. Can you watch them for a minute while I make a call and grab what we need from storage?"

"Certainly." I watched him head to the storage room, then began moving through the rows of students; I didn't try and engage them in conversation, I just monitored their warm ups—making sure that they were staying on task and not goofing off, though I did correct their form if I spotted someone goofing off.

"Where's your boyfriend? Is he coming to class too?" It was a whisper—Carslile, with a hopeful look on her face.

"He is having breakfast with my grandmother and Guardian Petrov—so no, I'm afraid he will not be joining us."

"Damn—I bet he looks really hot in gym shorts." She grinned, thought her cheeks flushed—someone had a crush.

"Trust me… he looks even better out of them." I winked, moving away, leaving her giggling softly behind me.

Emil took so long I began to worry; one by one the students finished their stretching, turning their eyes towards me expectantly—waiting for me to tell them what to do next. I was racking my brain for some sort of group activity when Emil reappeared—thank God— carrying two large cardboard boxes in his arms. I hurried over to help him, grabbing the top one and setting it on the ground. "Were any of the other guardians interested?"

"Yes—they'll be outside waiting for the lights to go out." He placed the box he held beside mine, clapping his hands as he turned to face the class. "Gather round! Today you will get your wish, but we will be adding to the lesson. Everyone will get a stake so you can practice using it in low light conditions. For safety reasons, you will not wield it above this level—" he held out his hand, chest height. "They are blunted—but we will be in the dark. I don't want any of you putting someone's eye out by accident. Understand?"

There was a chorus of 'yes sirs' from the novices; I began unloading the stakes—there were twelve in each box, along with faux leather sheaths that would strap around the student's waists. There was still one left when we were done passing them out—Emil offered it to me with a grin.

"Are you planning on attacking me?" I asked.

"No—but one of the students might. Better to be prepared I think, don't you?"

I strapped the sheath on as he moved to the light switch; as soon as the room went dark, I toed off my shoes—they would squeak on the highly polished floor, giving away my location. For the first few minutes, I didn't move, allowing myself ample time to adjust to the darkness. Every dhampir in the gymnasium had enhanced sight, but the guardians would have a distinct advantage on their side over the novices—years of experience. Had we been outdoors there would have been ambient light from the moon or the stars, but since we were in an enclosed space with no windows, that wasn't the case.

The gym was full of nervous murmuring—not everyone understood the game. Without Yeva's voice spinning tales of the past, every sound seemed amplified—from the rustle of clothing to the shuffling of the novices feet as they shifted from side to side. The air shifted beside me as Emil moved off into the darkness; in the distance, I heard a faint squeaking noise—the other guardians, sneaking inside to join us.

A girl screamed a few moments later—Emil chuckled, his voice a soft whisper as he told her to sit down since she was had just been 'killed'.

Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed dramatically, the tension level rising. Now the novices knew that we weren't just lurking—we were on the hunt. I moved sideways, taking the long way around, wanting to approach the students from the back. There was another panicked shout from the other side of the gym—this time from a boy; I heard an unfamiliar male voice tell him to sit down.

"This isn't fair! How many of you are there?" A student called out.

"Do you think the Strigoi will send you a telegram announcing how many will be showing up for an attack Novice Berkley?" Alto's voice dripped with sarcasm.

I didn't have time to be amused by his quip—someone was approaching me in the darkness on my left. I ducked, sweeping my foot out to catch the persons ankles—they anticipated the movement, dodging backwards. I remained crouched down, slowly inching sideways—listening for the telltale rush of air that would betray their movement. When it came, it was a fast lunge directly at the area where I'd originally been standing—whoever my attacker was, they did not realize I had moved. I lashed out, but they jerked back before I connected—I'd given away my position without scoring a hit. Dropping back down, I rolled to my left, and then I lay there, completely frozen, holding my breath—waiting for the attack to begin again.

Our movements were like a well-choreographed dance—one of advance and retreat. For the entire class period, I held my attacker at bay; I didn't score a kill, but I managed to stay alive—something that was far, far more important to me. By the time the bell sounded, I was dripping with sweat—the muscles in legs and back were aching from the amount of time I'd spent hunched over in a crouched down position. When the lights came up suddenly, I blinked at the unexpected brightness, trying to focus on the figure that was barely a foot away from me.

"You said you weren't going to attack me!" It came out a growl as I swiped at my sweaty face.

"I lied." Emil smiled, reaching down to help me to my feet. "You're good—fast as an adder. You move like your brother."

"We had the same teacher—my grandmother," I muttered, scowling at him.

"From what I hear… she was one of the best." He turned away from me, still grinning. "Class—I believe our winner deserves a round of applause."

I glanced around, startled as the novices began to clap their hands. Out of the entire room, I was the only person still standing that wasn't a guardian. I looked down at the floor, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I cannot claim a victory since I was unaware I was participating. Besides, I have been doing this for years—they haven't."

"Regardless—you deserve it. Go sit down and catch your breath. Class—we will do this exercise again in the future. I certainly hope that next time there will be at least a few of you left on your feet."

While he dismissed the students I retrieved a bottle of water from my gym bag. As the guardians walked past me, they called out their compliments—one man even patting me on the shoulder and saying Dimitri would be proud of my performance. I smiled, not answering—barely having time to mop the sweat from my face and arms before the next group of novices rolled in and we started the lesson all over again.

For the next five hours, _I_ was the hunted one; word of the game and my standoff with Emil spread, filtering through the guardians—and not just the ones on duty. Each class, a few more showed up, wanting a crack at taking down 'the Russian god's' little sister—hoping to achieve what Emil had been unable to. Each time, it was a stalemate—they were good, but when it came to defensive techniques, I wasn't exactly a slacker. They were professionals, each one of them excellent at their job, but I'd been doing this exercise for eleven years; Dimitri had played my attacker for more than half of them—and I am not at all biased when I say that my brother is the _very_ best.

It was far easier to evade their attacks than it was to try and stake them, so I focused on staying alive, sticking close to the ground until the lights came up at the end of each period. The only break I had was during the Academy's lunch hour—but I didn't waste it eating. Instead, I opted to shower and change clothes, since mine were soaking wet with sweat—then I headed to the clinic, scheduling a time to meet with the doctor later in the afternoon before returning to the gym.

I was early enough that it was still empty when I arrived, which was exactly what I'd hoped for. Leaning against the wall, I studied the large buildings layout, trying to find something that I could use to my advantage. I was in shape, but I was tired, and my body was starting to ache—it was only a matter of time before I started to slow down. When that happened, I would lose—and that was something I couldn't allow to happen. It was obvious the guardians intended to keep on challenging me until they beat me—but for me, losing was not an option; I had to uphold the Belikov reputation and make my brother proud—nothing less would do.

As my eyes flicked around the room, I realized my only option was to catch the guardians completely by surprise. When it came to one thing, my grandmother was right—over the centuries, dhampirs had grown completely complacent to their instincts. We'd lost many of our natural protective intuition, focusing all our attention on being attacked on the ground—forgetting that very often in nature… predators attacked from above.

The climbing ropes were out—they'd been wrapped up over the rafters so they'd be out of the way until needed; there was no way I could reach them unless I sprouted wings. The only other option was the chin up bars along the far wall; there were several bolted to the wall in varying heights, the tallest appearing to be about seven feet off the ground. It would be hard to reach it—the way my legs were aching, I knew I'd never be able to jump high enough to grab it. I'd have to use one of the shorter one and climb my way across in the dark—they were evenly spaced, with about a foot and a half between each one. Risky—but the only feasible option I had.

Pulling off my shoes and socks, I balled up the latter and crammed them into my bag; it would be hard enough to balance on the narrow metal bars without shoes—doing it in slippery socks would be almost impossible. I shoved my feet back into my sneakers, not bothering to tighten the laces; as soon as the lights went out, I'd be kicking them off—the faster I could get it done the better—then I sank down to the floor, waiting for class to commence.

This time we had an audience; as the novices entered, guardians accompanied them. They stood, each surrounded by a cluster of students—I spotted Alto and Guardian Florescu, the communications instructor, trying to keep their classes together and in line. Obviously, they had decided to forego whatever lessons they'd planned in lieu of participating in the challenge. It hardly seemed fair since many of the students in their classes had already played earlier in the day, but I didn't have time to voice my concerns to Emil—he'd already launched into an explanation of what we were doing and was in the process of handing out stakes to the novices in his class. I glanced from him to the other students that were standing along the wall with their instructors—there weren't enough stakes for all of them. Apparently, my confusion was evident—Emil looked over at me and laughed.

"Some of them are just here to watch—there will be someone participating that everyone is extremely anxious to see."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Is it my grandmother? Because I can assure you… I'll lose. I can't beat her—I doubt even Dimitri could. And it will be dark… so they won't technically be able to _see_ anything."

"If I told you, it would ruin the surprise, Miss Belikova." His dark eyes were full of barely contained amusement. "And though we may not actually be able to watch the fight itself… wondering what the outcome will be has us all breathless with anticipation."

I opened my mouth to protest, but at that moment, the lights went out; I could hear someone approaching me from behind—and they were moving _fast_. Whoever the mystery person was, they'd been waiting, intending to get the jump on me. I sprinted off into the darkness heading in the opposite direction from the chin up bars—hoping to buy myself some much needed extra time. It was immediately apparent to me that I'd been right in my assumption—I'd pushed myself too hard. My legs felt limp and shaky; the muscles in my right calf were bunching in painful knots, making it hard to run. The cramping was a sure sign of overexertion—now I was even more handicapped, and the exercise had only just begun.

I doubled back, sticking to the perimeter of the room, skirting along the wall as I made my way to the area where the bars were located, trying to ignore the shrieks and murmurs from the students and the guardians. I couldn't let myself be distracted by what was happening throughout the room—I had to focus on not getting caught by whoever it was that was stalking me. When I was sure that I was in the general vicinity I needed, I reached up, feeling around in the darkness—trying to locate the bars as best I could; at first I panicked when my hand didn't hit anything, but then I took a few steps backward and the back of my hand brushed against cool metal.

Kicking off my shoes, I tucked the practice stake down the front of my sports bra; my cleavage would keep it safely in place and it would be much less likely to hamper my movements there than it would in the stupid holster—the last thing I needed was for it to bang against the bar and give my location away. I pulled myself up quickly; from there it was just a matter of using my stomach to balance as I got my feet in place. I didn't stop to consider how foolish my plan might be—if I had, I might have lost my nerve; reaching out across the dark void, I felt for the next bar—repeating the entire process again, although this time a little slower. I was on the verge of moving to the tallest bar when a faint shuffling sound reached my ears; it was followed by a 'thump' and a whispered curse. My stalker was directly below me—they had obviously tripped over my discarded shoes, inadvertently giving away their location. They had been momentarily surprised, which meant they were off guard—giving me an opening to attack.

Lowering myself into a sitting position, I took a deep breath then dropped down on my attacker—but instead of hitting a body, I hit the ground, hard; my ankle buckled, rolling to the side. Hot waves of agony radiated up my leg; I had to bite down on my lip to hold back a moan of pain. They'd moved at the last minute, completely spoiling my plan—and now I'd sprained my damned ankle to boot.

_'Move past the pain Vika—ignore it, it does not matter!_' I grit my teeth as I admonished myself, trying—and failing—to put weight on my injured foot.

There was movement to my right—something passed within inches of my face; I jerked backwards—trying to sidestep the blow, but the defensive maneuver made me stumble, putting more weight on my ankle than I'd intended. It hampered my retreat, making escape impossible. They struck again, this time catching me in the small of my back, down low, by my tailbone. My breath hissed out as I fell to my knees—then something slammed into my temple with so much force that starburst of whiteness appeared before my eyes. Pain roared through my head as I collapsed—my cheek hit the cool gym floor. I fought to hang on to consciousness and shove the dizziness aside, forcing myself to roll over despite the nausea the movement stirred.

I might be down—but I wasn't giving up. To do so in the field would mean death—or worse, being made into a monster. Holding my breath, I waited for my attacker to move again; when the air shifted, I lashed upward with the practice stake—aiming directly for where I thought the heart would be.

"Lights! Turn on the lights!" The voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it—perhaps because of the strange gray dots that were growing larger as they ate away at my brain.

I blinked as the lights flicked on—the brightness made my eyes tear, increasing the nausea that was rolling through me in waves. Alberta Petrov stood over me, frozen in place—my stake was pressing against her body, just below her sternum. It was the perfect position for delivering a killing blow.

She was speaking, but I couldn't process the words; the world had turned to jelly, rippling and quivering around me. The last thing I remember clearly was a single thought that flickered through my mind—not about the extent of my injuries or to wonder why I felt so cold and numb. It was two vain, petty little words—but in that moment, they were all that I could focus on.

_I won._

My head hit the floor with a sickening crack as everything faded into nothingness.

When I woke up, I panicked; my vision was hazy, and there was a blurry shape looming over me. Immediately, I sat up—not the smartest choice. The room titled off kilter as a wave of pain slammed into me; I collapsed backward, swallowing rapidly, on the verge of throwing up.

"Sudden movement isn't the best thing right now, dear. Stay still and the dizziness will pass—are you going to be sick?"

I turned my head—slowly—towards the voice, afraid that if I moved too fast, I'd answer the question in a very unpleasant way. "Where am I?"

"You're in the clinic. Guardian Petrov hit you much harder than she meant to." Olendzki pulled out a pen light, shining it into my eyes. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Viktoria Aleksandra Belikova. My mother is Olena Anastasia Belikova. My brother is Dimitri Nikolai Belikov—do I need to go on?" I knew the drill—it wasn't the first time I'd been knocked out in class. Though in all honestly, it usually happened when I was goofing off and not paying attention to my sparring partner—not when I was actively participating and focused.

She chuckled, clicking off the light. "No, that's fine. Your pupils are responsive and your reflexes are good; I don't think it's a concussion but—"

"I'll be fine. She got me in the temple—that's why I blacked out."

"Mhmm. Your ankle probably contributed too—it's a nasty sprain. I wrapped it while you were out but I couldn't give you anything for pain because of the head trauma. Now that you're awake—"

"I can live with it."

She narrowed her eyes, studying me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes ma'am—it has settled to a dull ache." It was a complete fabrication—my ankle was throbbing, but I refused to be medicated. Whatever drugs she gave me might linger in my bloodstream, and I didn't know what effect they might have on Adrian if he needed to feed.

"All right—if you're certain. We'll monitor you for a few hours just to be on the safe side—"

"No—I told you I'm fine. My grandmother can watch over me just as well as your staff can, and if she is doing it she is less likely to worry."

She sighed, shaking her head, her voice heavy with disapproval. "You're not a student, so I can't force you to stay—though I'd prefer it. Do you want to try and sit up again?"

I knew she was testing me, hoping I'd change my mind. I wouldn't. I moved much more slowly this time—relieved that the room didn't spin around me again. She pulled over a stool on wheels, sitting down and smiling. "Since you're already here, we might as well get your appointment out of the way. What was it you wanted to see me about?"

I blushed, knotting my hands together; my knuckles immediately turned white from how tightly I'd laced my fingers. "I need a prescription… for contraceptives."

"I see—well… normally, that requires a full exam—"

I cut her off, frowning. "I had one a few months ago—at Saint Basil's Dr. Szelsky requires them yearly for novices over the age of fourteen."

"As I was saying," she raised her eyebrows, ignoring my interruption, "I've known Valentina Szelsky for years—she's a very thorough physician, so I suppose we can forgo the formalities this time."

"Good—no offense, but I really don't want to repeat it any more than I have to. It's not the most fun thing, you know?"

"I agree with you completely. Did you fill out the information sheet they gave you when you came in? I'll need the date of your last cycle."

"I did."

"Fine. I'll go look it over and write you out a prescription. You'll have to get it filled at Court—we don't carry contraceptives here. I'll give you one for a mild pain reliever too, just in case you change your mind—and you need to stay off that foot as much as possible for the next few days."

"I won't argue—I've had my fill of being beaten up on by your guardians," I mumbled, scowling."

"I certainly understand that. When she brings in your prescriptions, Dahlia will have some crutches as well—you'll need to use them for at least a week, alright?" She stood, pushing the stool away and moving to the door. "Oh—and Viktoria? I'll forward a copy of the prescription to Dr. Szelsky—you'll need to follow up with her in two months, just to make sure you don't have an adverse reaction to the pills."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you."

"You're welcome—you're free to go as soon as Dahlia is done with you. Your shoes and bag are beside the bed—don't tie the right one too tightly. If you start feeling dizzy again or like you might pass out… call me—immediately."

By the time Olendzki's assistant was finished with me, I was more than ready to get out of there. I headed for the door as fast as I could—not an easy task on crutches and with a pounding headache—only to stop in my tracks when the nurse at the front desk called out my name, holding out a slip of paper. "Miss Belikova—Guardian Petrov called. She'd like you to stop by her office as soon as possible."

I sighed, retracing my steps and balancing on the stupid metal poles as I grabbed the note and glanced over it—it was a rough map to the office in question. I had a long, hobbling walk in front of me. "Thank you—if she calls back, please tell her I am on my way… though God only knows how long it will take me to get there."

"Would you like me to see if someone could drive you over? We have a few golf carts on hand for conveying visitors between campuses."

"No, that's quite all right—I have to get used to these stupid things anyway."

Ten minutes later, I was cursing my own ignorance. I always tried to do things on my own—not wanting to be a burden on others—but this was one time I should have swallowed my pride and accepted the help instead of attempting to tough it out on my own. My arms—already tired from training all day—were aching, and the stupid padded armrests on the crutches were rubbing my armpits raw—not to mention my stupid bag kept smacking into my back, throwing me off balance. By the time I reached the building that housed Petrov's office, I was well on my way to working myself into quite a cantankerous state. On top of all that, I was full of trepidation as I raised my hand to knock on the door to her office, wondering what she wanted.

"Come in—"

She was on the phone, so I leaned against the door, waiting—hesitant to interrupt.

"She just arrived," she said into the receiver. "I'll certainly pass that along. Enjoy the rest of your evening." Hanging up the phone, she waved me inside. "That was Guardian Zykov—I was filling him in on your performance today. He's extremely pleased to hear that you're upholding Saint Basil's reputation."

"I'm sure he mentioned the fact I need to make more of an effort in my own classes." I frowned; now Zykov would hound me—demanding I show the same enthusiasm when I returned to school.

"He did—though he didn't quite phrase it in that manner; he said you seem determined not to live up to your potential."

I shrugged. "I'm not an over achiever."

Her brow wrinkled as she gestured towards the chairs that faced her desk. "Please—sit. I hate it when people hover over me, don't you?"

"Not many people _can_ hover over me," I pointed out drily as I dropped my bag and sank down in the nearest chair, leaning the crutches against her desk. "I'm pretty tall for a girl."

"I wish I'd had that problem when I was your age—I always envied the Moroi girls for their height."

I gazed at her without commenting, wishing she'd get to the point—it was obvious she had something on her mind other than idle chit chat. "Guardian Petrov… if this is about Adrian and me—"

"It's not," she interrupted smoothly, straightening up a stack of papers on her desk, "though I do have one piece of advice for you on that issue. Lying and sneaking around will get you nowhere—it doesn't prove your maturity, Viktoria—in fact… it does just the opposite. If you really want to prove to Dimitri that the two of you are serious about seeing each other… it's better to tackle the problem head on. The way you're handling it now makes it seem like you're ashamed of what's happening between you."

"That's ridiculous! You have no idea—"

"He healed your face, didn't he? When Maclamore hit you."

I didn't respond—the answer was obvious.

"You realize that it's dangerous" It can affect him mentally—"

I bristled, cutting her off. "Excuse me—but when it comes to Spirit, I probably know more than you do. One of my family's closest friends in Baia is a Spirit user."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't—but I do not appreciate your assuming that I would allow Adrian to harm himself just to ease my pain. I told him _not_ to heal me—he did it anyway." I didn't add that we knew a way to counter the negative side effects—that was no one's business but our own. "You don't know anything about our situation—and I don't want to discuss it further."

"You're right, I don't… and it's none of my business." She cleared her throat, frowning. "I initially asked you here so I could apologize for what happened—"

"No apology is necessary—it was entirely my fault."

"Still—you were hurt badly, and that _is _ my fault. I was aiming for your stomach, not your head."

"You had no way of knowing my position—I took a risk and tried a very foolish move in the dark. It failed—I got hurt. End of story." I wasn't being kind or magnanimous—it was just the plain, simple truth. "I'd prefer to just forget about it."

She studied me a moment, then nodded. "Fine—we'll move on to the second issue. Despite your stance on the matter… I spoke with Maclamore about what happened between the two of you. I'm sorry you were exposed to that side of him, but in a way it's a good thing it happened—the incident brought his true colors to light."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a closet misogynist. Of course… he didn't admit it outright—they never do. Throughout the conversation he let quite a bit slip out, probably because he's on pain meds. He doesn't like women very much—especially ones that are guardians. He seems to think we're all beneath him and should be cooking and cleaning and tending house." Her jaw tightened with anger. "I've contacted headquarters and put in a request that he be removed from the Academy—and he won't be transferring to another one. I mentioned the incident with you in my report, so they might contact you about it to confirm what I said."

"As deplorable as I find his mindset… if he is a good instructor, shouldn't he get another chance? He seemed pleasant enough at first—maybe it's just me he has a problem with since I am from a commune."

"Unfortunately, that's not the case." Alberta frowned, steepling her fingers together on her desk. "When he first arrived on campus… he requested not to be assigned any co-ed classes. He told me he didn't feel comfortable teaching young girls. I thought he was just being cautious—in light of what happened with Dimitri and Rose… several male Guardians have stated that they prefer not to do combat training with female novices unless there is a female guardian present at all times. Maclamore was using it as an excuse to hide his true feelings—deep down, he doesn't think girls should be in training."

"I do hope you pointed out to those gentlemen that what happened with my brother and Roza could happen just as easily between a male instructor and a male novice," I said, sarcasm coloring my words.

"I did, but at the same time, I can understand their concerns. The Guardian Council will be keeping a much closer eye on this campus for a while—I was severely reprimanded for it happening right under my nose."

"That's ridiculous—it's not like you knew it was going on and turned a blind eye to the situation."

Her eyes dropped to her hands, the corners of her mouth lifting. "As far as they know… you're right. That's why I still have my job."

I stared across the desk at her, narrowing my eyes as I processed the hidden innuendo. "You knew."

"I suspected."

"Then why—"

"Because it's extremely rare for a guardian to find love, Viktoria. The best we can hope for is to reach an arrangement with another guardian—and all that does is satisfy our physical needs. For those of us that were observant enough… watching your brother and Rose… it gave us hope that we might find the same thing in the future. And I care about them both—I wanted them to be happy."

I thought about her words, scowling. "We have to give up everything… and get nothing in return."

"It depends on the charge you're assigned. Some are more willing to let their guardians have a life than others. Which brings me to my final point—I wanted to talk about your plans."

"My… plans?" For a moment, as illogical as it was, I thought she had somehow overheard my side of the brief conversation I'd had with Abe. I took a deep breath, trying to control my panic. "I.. uh… plan on returning to school and graduating."

She chuckled, seeming to be completely unaware of my unease. "I meant long term—you don't have to accept a charge, you know. Have you given any thought to becoming an instructor?"

"No," I admitted, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. "I don't exactly have the patience for something like that."

"I think you're wrong—several members of the staff have spoken very highly about how you interact with the students. Emil said you're a natural—that you presented your demonstration with Maclamore in a way that drew the entire class in… even the ones he normally has a problem with."

"Only because I was relaying a story—about how Yeva taught my brother a lesson. I hated every single minute of it—I don't like speaking in front of people. The idea of doing something like that everyday…" I shuddered, making a face, "just the thought makes me feel sick."

She didn't speak—not at first—she just sat, regarding me intently, her face completely expressionless. "I see… well… it does get easier the more you do it, like anything else… but if you're dead set against the idea, I won't push you. I'm disappointed, of course—it's a shame, since every year the number of instructors seems to drop. We need people who can grab the student's interest and hold it… I'm sure you know how hard it is to learn from someone who's dull and boring, reciting out of a book."

"Even if I were so inclined… it would be impossible, Madam. The women in my village do not become guardians—we return to Baia and settle down once we graduate."

My statement stunned her; she sat back in her chair, the furrows in her forehead deepening. "That seems like a waste —why bother spending so many years training if you don't intend to utilize your skills?"

"To protect our families and our community. Baia is a very long way from any major city, and there are often Strigoi attacks on the roads leading into the settlement. They haven't attacked my village… but they've attacked others—ones where the older dhampirs have left to serve the Moroi. They've wiped out communes all over Russia because there is no one there to protect the people. That will not happen to Baia—our women are warriors. You went to Saint Basil's—none of this should come as a surprise to you."

"It wasn't like that when I was a student… or maybe it was and I just never realized it. I never visited the smaller settlements in Siberia—I grew up close to Saint Petersburg." She sighed, rubbing her forehead., looking as weary as I felt. "I can understand your view about wanting to protect your home—"

I held up my hand, interrupting her silently; her words were stirring something in my mind—an epiphany explaining something that I'd never fully grasped until that very moment. "It is not my view, it is my grandmothers—but I am finally beginning to understand some of the reasons behind her insistence. It is not about protecting our homes," I said, fiercely, "but protecting our race. For years I have heard about how fewer and fewer dhampirs seem to be enrolling in the Academies, but has anyone stopped to truly question why that is? I think it has _nothing_ to do with whether or not they want to serve—and _everything_ to do with the fact we are systematically being driven into extinction. We die in the line of duty and it is expected… but think about this—if all the able-bodied dhampirs go into service, there is no one left behind to protect a settlement. The only ones left are the elderly and mothers and children—most of whom cannot defend themselves against Strigoi. If that settlement is wiped out… then there are no children to enroll in the Academies, Guardian Petrov. We may need to protect the Moroi, but we need to protect our future generations too, or else we will cease to exist. Once that happens… the Moroi will be next."

Her gray eyes widened as my sudden realization spread, affixing itself firmly in her mind too. "My God… you're right! The attacks here have been on Moroi households—but that's probably because there aren't many communes here in the states. The Badicas and Vodas were practically wiped out… and the attack on the Academy… it all makes sense! Jesus… that means—"

"That Strigoi banding together is not as new an occurrence as everyone thinks… it's only just been noticed because the attacks were on _Moroi_." I finished for her, feeling a shiver race through my mind. "It is a long term plan. They have been wiping out future generations of guardians where they are the most plentiful—in the settlements. Out of the way places that no one cares about. When that worked, they tried to move on to the next phase—trying take down the Academies."

"But why start here? Saint Basil's is closer—"

"Because Saint Basil's training is much more advanced—and there are a lot more guardians there. They would have to know that—I am willing to bet Saint Vladimir's was a test run. You're more isolated here than the other Academies, yes?" A dull throbbing started behind my eyes, sweeping up along my temples to gather in the center of my forehead. There was more to the equation—so much more that I could not grasp it all. I felt it, like an ache in my bones on a cold, icy winter's morning. "I have to go—I need to talk to my grandmother about this."

"Now? Vika, no—we need to contact the Guardian Council. We have to warn them—"

"You don't understand—and I can't explain it to you. Not until I talk to Yeva." _And Dimitri,_ I added mentally; if anyone could shed light on the horrific situation, it would be my brother—the one person who may have been privy to the Strigoi's plans. "Before we leave the Academy tonight… there is something Yeva has to do. It might provide the missing link we need."

"What?" The guardian looked confused by my statement, but it could not be helped. "You're not making any sense… none at all."

How could I explain the gift that Yeva and I shared when I didn't fully understand it myself? How could I explain the flashes of the past we could sometimes access at will without laying my soul bare and exposing my deepest, darkest secret?

The answer was a simple one—I couldn't, but _Yeva_ could. She had none of my fear of exposure, and her gift was a thousand times stronger than mine would probably ever be. It enabled her to talk to spirits and glimpse things that I hoped I would _never _see.

"We have to go there—to the cave where it happened. We have to take my grandmother to the spot where the Strigoi were hiding that night. You have to take us to where my brother died."

* * *

**_A/N: The two chapters I updated today were originally actually one gigantic chapter—I broke it up into two for those of you who don't want to tackle 15,752 words in one sitting. ;o)_**

**_Also…a couple updates ago, someone left a review asking for another sneak peek. Here you go—sorry it took so long, I've been meaning to do it, but keep forgetting._**

**_WARNING: SPOILER TO FUTURE EVENTS BELOW!_**

I cannot say for certain exactly what happened next—though I can certainly hazard a guess; I've seen my grandmother fall into vision often enough to assume what I probably looked like—a statue, unmoving, with that eerie glazed look, as if I'd suddenly been struck blind. It struck suddenly, out of the blue—one minute I was laughing with mama, then the next I was filled with an all-consuming panic as an image played out in my mind.

I was running through the deepest part of the forest that surrounded the estate, not caring about the branches that scratched my face or the brambles and bushes that tore up my bare legs and feet. There was only one thing on my mind—_my son was missing. _ I could hear him crying out for me—screaming out 'Mama'—his breath wheezing as he tried to force air into his lungs.

It lasted less than a minute—twenty seconds at most, no more—then I was back in my chair, blinking rapidly and fighting against the spaced out, hazy lethargy that always hits in the wake of such a spell. Mama was still chatting away happily in my ear—completely unaware that my consciousness had wandered—but the overwhelming panic was still there, increasing with every beat of my heart.

I sat up straighter, shaking my head, trying to center myself in reality and shove the vision aside. I focused on what was around me—the tangible things that I could _feel—_ the things that would help anchor me in the present. The softness of the cushion in the chair I was sitting in; the faint breeze from the fan on the desk—the coolness of the tiles beneath my feet.

My feet.

_My bare feet._

I lurched out of the chair, dropping the receiver without a word—immediately sprinting for the stairs as fast as I could. For once, I was thankful for my height—my long legs made it possible to take the steps three at a time. I slid around the corner; the long, narrow Oriental rug that covered the ceramic tile bunched up beneath my feet, tripping me and sending me sprawling to the floor. My knee throbbed painfully, but I ignored it, regaining my feet in an instant—then I was at the door to Zach's room, throwing it open with so much force that the handle imbedded itself in the wall.

I threw back my head and screamed; the sound that came out of me was primal and raw—a wordless roar of rage that echoed through the corridors, bouncing back off the marble and stone.

_The crib was empty. _

_My son was gone._


	18. Chapter 18: Mission Impossible

_Dear Diary,_

_I wasn't surprised when Guardian Petrov balked at my statement—I'd known instinctively that she would argue against visiting the cave. Setting aside the fact the trip would be physically taxing, there were also safety aspects to consider—to say nothing of the emotional minefield we would all be forced to navigate. Petrov tried to change my mind, listing a myriad of reasons why it wasn't going to happen; I listened to her calmly without interrupting, waiting until she was finished to point out the one thing she'd overlooked—the only thing I needed to counter her argument._

_I wasn't a student or an employee of the Academy, and neither was my grandmother—therefore, she had no control over what either of us did. She could not stop us, and if she would not help us, I would find a way to get us to the cave on my own._

"Viktoria, you're not thinking clearly—"

"Actually, I beg to differ. I am thinking quite rationally—without involving my emotions. _You,_ on the other hand, are not."

"Emotions don't have anything to do with this!"

"Don't they? You have admitted that what happened in the cave that night haunts you—and yet here I am, asking you to revisit it. That would be bad enough on its own—but to do it in the company of my grandmother and I? Two women related to the guardian that you left there?" I did not use my brother's name—to do so would shatter my façade of calm, and I knew that would only serve to work against me. She would latch on to any sign of emotion I might display, claiming it was proof that I couldn't handle visiting the spot—so I kept my face a solemn mask, hiding away my pain.

"I'm looking at it from a purely logistical standpoint." She rubbed her temples, frowning. "You're unfamiliar with the area we're talking about. It's five miles away—and that's if we go through the forest on foot. Even if we take the longer route and use vehicles, the cave is over a mile away from the dirt road that leads from the interstate—we'd still be looking at a hell of a hike. Your grandmother would never be able to make it—and neither would you with that ankle."

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes; my being hurt was a moot point and she knew it. "Guardian Petrov… do you _really_ believe that I'll remain injured once Adrian sees me? My ankle will not be a problem, and neither will Yeva—she could walk five miles without breaking a sweat."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to test that theory. I refuse to be responsible for her having a heart attack or—"

"Do not concern yourself with such things—my time on this earth is far from over, Madam. I will hold my grandchildren's children and the children they bear before my heart starts to slow. I _cannot_ take my least breath until the knowledge is passed on—that is the way of our bloodline."

Yeva's voice was strong and sure, making me wonder if she had _seen_ the things she spoke of. Had we been alone, I would have asked her—but for now, it would have to wait.

"Now please… enlighten me as to exactly what it is you think I am too old and feeble to do."

I glanced over at her, trying not to smile; telling my grandmother she _can't_ do something is never the smartest thing—it only strengthens her resolve to do it and prove you wrong. "We were discussing the attack that happened here—I think that you and I _need_ to see the cave… but Guardian Petrov says it is impossible. She thinks that the journey would be too hard for you."

"Nothing on earth is impossible if there is determination in one's heart and the ability to see clearly." She entered, moving closer to the desk; gone was the shuffling gait she so often favored—she moved like a queen, shoulders back and spine straight, her expression one of stubborn defiance.

"Oh, I don't know about that—I can't fly, no matter how much I always wanted to as a kid." Adrian slouched in the doorway, smiling mischievously.

"Incorrect. You could have—you simply did not use logic. Had you thought about it clearly you would have seen a plethora of answers right in front of you—airplanes have wings and fly. There is sky diving. Hang gliding. That ridiculous activity people do on water… what is it called—parasailing? Rappelling down the side of a mountain—all things that would let you experience soaring through the air." Resting her hands on the desk, she leaned forward, invading Petrov's space. "If my granddaughter feels we need to go to that place and is willing to expose herself to the pain of seeing where her brother died… then we are going—that is all there is to be said."

"We're not talking about a casual stroll, Ms. Belikova," Petrov snapped, standing up and gesturing towards a large map that was framed on the wall. "I'll tell you the same thing I told your granddaughter—it's rugged terrain, no matter which route we take. Since it's outside the wards, it would mean pulling some of my staff off duty to guard you—"

Adrian's snort of amusement cut her off. "I always thought Rose's habit of offending people was something she inherited from Abe, but now I'm starting to wonder if she picked it up from you, Allie."

She scowled at the interruption. "Excuse me?"

"You just insulted her physical capabilities twice in one sentence; you implied she was too feeble to make it and that she didn't have the ability to protect herself. You're really batting a thousand today, aren't you?"

"I was simply stating obvious factors that pose a problem—I don't see what that has to do with Rose."

"I am sure you are familiar with the saying 'little pitchers have big ears'? Small children are like sponges, they absorb the things they see the adults around them do—my nephew used to pick up on things we said all the time." I glanced over at Adrian; it was an interesting notion. I'd always just assumed that the abrupt rudeness Roza often displayed was a part of her personality—I'd never stopped to wonder what it might be that made her so prickly and brash. "She couldn't have gotten it from her parents—they weren't around during her formative years."

Petrov's scowl faced, a look of surprised confusion slowly replacing it. "Are you actually suggesting that I act like Rose Hathaway? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"I don't mean it as an insult, Allie—you did raise her, right? Well… you and the other members of the faculty. I think the fact Rose looked up to you that way is kind of… touching. And I'm not saying you fly off the handle all the time or go off halfcocked." His brow wrinkled as he started worrying his lip with his fang; I could tell he was troubled—wondering if he'd offended the woman or somehow hurt her feelings.

"Enough! When you are overly emotional about something, your guard drops," Yeva interjected, her voice full of impatience. "I noticed it within five minutes of meeting you—the boy is much more observant than people give him credit for. He is seeing a side of you that is normally hidden and it surprises him—that is what he is rambling about."

"I wasn't rambling—"

"You were." Yeva seated herself in the chair next to mine, reaching over and taking my hand as she studied my face intently. Her voice dropped, the irritation softening out into a tone of concern. "Are you all right, kotyonok?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to derail the conversation." Adrian pushed away from the door, moving to stand beside my chair; I tensed as he reached out, gently touching my shoulder.

"Don't—I'm fine."

Too late. A surge of liquid heat rolled through me, ebbing and rippling like a warm tropical tide. The aches throughout my poor, battered body evaporated, but they were immediately replaced by an entirely different kind of throbbing altogether—one that was centered smack dab between my thighs. I bit my lip, fighting to hold in a moan as I jerked away from his hand; his dark green eyes were wide with shock—he could feel it too. The vibe of his magic had shifted… at least where I was concerned.

He moved quickly, shifting so his body was hidden from view by the back of my chair; Yeva started chuckling as I bent over to root through my gym bag, pulling out one of my brother's old sweatshirts and handing it to him. "Here… it's long."

"Am I missing something?" Alberta watched as Adrian tugged the sweatshirt over his head; despite his height, it was still gigantic on him—but at least it enabled him to hide away the most obvious sign of his arousal.

"They are young—their hormones run rampant. His magic… it affected them both."

I swiveled my head to glare at her, scowling ferociously as I processed what she'd said. "You could have warned us."

She shrugged. "I was not sure it would happen—I did not want to let my own experiences influence you."

Alberta cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing as the meaning of what we were discussing finally hit home. "Ahem… back to the subject at hand—"

"We are going. You do not need to send anyone with us—give us a map and we will find out own way."

"I'm sorry, I can't—"

"You can."

"You do realize that technically the Belikovas are guests of the Queen," Adrian said in a soft voice. "You can sit here and argue as much as you want, but all either of them has to do is make a call and the visit to the cave would become an official order."

"And all I have to do is make a call and your life expectancy will drop significantly—so stay out of this Ivashkov."

I bristled at the implication. Yeva tensed beside me. The look on her face went from argumentative to downright unfriendly in two seconds flat. "Guardian Petrov… I do not appreciate your threat to cause problems within my family—and Adrian _is _one of the family, whether my grandson approves or not. Furthermore, I do not need Vasilisa Dragomir to fight my battles while I hide behind her crown—I _am_ going to the cave. I have a _right _to see where Dimitri died."

"Ms. Belikova—"

"Show me where this cave is—the way you talk it must be as far away as the moon." Yeva stood up, walking over to the large map, tapping her foot impatiently.

Petrov crossed the room to comply with the demand—probably thinking that my grandmother would back down once she saw the distance.

She didn't.

After studying it for a moment, she nodded her head, then turned, heading for the door. "Come children—we have a long walk ahead of us. If we start now, we should reach the wards by sunrise."

I grabbed my bag and followed her, leaving the accursed crutches behind. We were halfway down the hall before Petrov's voice called out behind us, making us stop in our tracks.

"Wait—you win…I'll take you."

"You see kotik? _That_ is how you bluff someone." Yeva said softly, her lips curving up in a self-satisfied smile. "If you pay attention, perhaps the next time we play cards, you will have a chance at beating me."

Three hours later_, _Petrov was running over the list she'd jotted down for what had to be the sixth time—she kept rechecking the small backpack that she'd filled, as if the contents might have somehow vanished since the last time she'd gone through it. We were waiting for the sun to rise—that was her sole stipulation. None of us argued—it was easy enough to delay our departing flight for later in the afternoon. Yeva was impatient—her fingers were drumming out a never-ending rhythm on the arm of her chair. We'd distracted her for as long as we could by taking her to eat and then to pack up our things, but now we'd run out of things to do, so it was all a waiting game—and one thing my grandmother really _hates_ is to be kept waiting.

"Do you really need all that?" I asked as I watched the guardian test the flashlights she'd laid out—it was the third time she'd done it in the last twenty minutes. From what I understood, it was a rather small cave system, but she was acting like we were venturing into a giant, endless catacomb to the center of the earth.

"We didn't map it all out—I don't want to chance getting lost."

"Yeva—you okay?" The concern in Adrian's voice made me realize the drumming sound had stopped; I glanced over at my grandmother, immediately fighting off a wave of panic at the strained look on her face.

She'd gone pale—paler than I could ever remember seeing her—and her eyes were wide and unseeing. Her jaw was tensed and her hands were clenched so tightly to the chair that the tendons stood out, pressing against her skin.

"Vision," I murmured softly, reaching out and gently prying the hand nearest me off the arm of her chair. I stroked it, hoping to soothe her—she looked almost distraught.

"Not ready… she's not ready," she mumbled in Russian; her brow furrowed, her hand clenching around mine so tightly that I let out a hiss of pain. "It's too soon."

"Is she alright? Is it some kind of… seizure?"

I glanced over at Petrov, frowning. "No—it's not. She'll be fine in a few minutes. Perhaps you could get her some water, please?"

"I'll go—I could use a smoke anyway." Adrian squeezed my shoulder as he moved to leave the room.

"There's no smoking on cam—" Alberta cut herself off with a sigh. "Never mind, you'll just do it anyway. There's bottled water in the break room—third door on the left." Her attention returned to Yeva; she shook her head in dismay. "This trip is a bad idea—I knew she wasn't up to it."

"Her age has nothing to do with it," I snapped defensively. "Surely if my brother was as close to you as you've implied, he mentioned the fact that she has the sight?"

"Superstitious nonsense. I don't believe in—"

"Whether or not you believe it is inconsequential—it's the truth. It is similar to the visions Spirit users get—or do you discount their gifts too?" As the words left my mouth, a thought occurred to me—I remembered the prediction Yeva had made when we were in the dress shop, about Lissa losing herself to her element. Was that what she was seeing play out in her mind—the young queen going insane? "The things she sees are never wrong, Guardian Petrov, though sometimes it can take a while for them to come true. That's why we have to go to the cave—sometimes she can pick up on things that others can't."

She ignored my comment—presumably to avoid a debate on the issue—but I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't pleased with my reasoning. "What if this happens when we're in the middle of the cave?"

"We stop and take a break and wait for her to snap out of it—the spells do not last long." As I spoke, the tension drained out of Yeva's body; she slumped in the chair, her eyes fluttering closed as she took a deep breath. "There—you see? She'll be good as new in a moment or two."

The guardian muttered something under her breath, but I was too intent on my grandmother to really care what was said. "Adrian has gone to get you some water grandmother—he will be back in a minute. Just take it easy—"

"When I am dead I will rest—I am fine." She cleared her throat,

I watched as she rebuilt herself, shoving aside the dreamy lethargy of vision by focusing on the room around her. "What did you see? Was it about Lissa?"

"Something that must not be spoken about." Her eyes flicked to Alberta and then back to me—I understood the gesture. She would tell me later, when there was no one around to overhear. "How much longer until we leave?"

Alberta glanced at her watch. "Emil should be here with the car in the next twenty minutes or so. Don't worry, we'll be at the wards by sunrise."

Yeva's lips tightened into a flat, narrow line. "Viktoria—"

"There's my girl—glad to see you're back in business." Adrian's cheerful voice broke in as he returned. As he handed her a bottle of water, his fingers brushed the back of her hand; I didn't feel his magic, so the gesture must have been to comfort her, nothing more. "Feeling alright?"

"Thank you kotik—do not trouble yourself with worry over me. I promise you I am not going anywhere for a long, long time."

"So—what'd I miss? Anything interesting?"

"Nothing, we were just discussing when we'd be leaving for the cave," Alberta said.

"_We_ will not be leaving for the cave. The children are not going."

"What? I was incredulous, not believing what I'd heard. "Of course I am going—this was all my idea, remember?"

"It is not up for arguments—my mind is made up."

Adrian shot me a confused look, but I was just as in the dark as he was. "Grandmother—why?"

"You need to remain on campus—that is where we told your brother you would be."

I tensed, not liking the sound of _that_ at all. I flicked my eyes over to the guardian, filling them with accusation. "Did you call him?"

"No—and I resent your asking me that," she shot back, frowning.

"Natural enough assumption—" Adrian said. A glance in his direction confirmed that he was just as tense as I was. "—since you threatened to sic him on me."

"Dimitri does what he pleases—he needs no one to incite him. You will remain here—am I understood?"

I remained silent, not answering. Instead, I studied her with narrowed eyes—something wasn't adding up. She wouldn't meet my gaze—which was unlike her—making me wonder what exactly was going on in her head. "Yes grandmother, I understand," I finally answered. My voice was demure and submissive—the sweet kitten without claws.

In the past, I would have thrown a fit, whining and pleading in an attempt to get my way—but those type of antics rarely worked on Yeva. I was a much smarter girl now than I'd been a few months ago. Instead of wasting time with tantrums, I would put it to better use on something much more important—figuring out a way to circumvent her plan and countering it with one of my own.

I could tell Adrian was puzzled by how easily I'd accepted being cut out of the trip; I suppose he was used to the way Roza does things—steamrollering over any opposition and never admitting defeat. I wasn't Roza—I never would be. I understood something that she probably never would—the strongest trees in the forest are the ones that sway with the wind lest they break.

I tried my best to ignore his searching glances—I couldn't exactly tell him what I was thinking or leave before they set out, since I needed access to Petrov's bag to set everything in motion. All I could do was shrug and sigh, playing with my phone as I tried to look completely innocent—that's never an easy thing, but it's even harder to do when you're actually _planning_ something sneaky.

Emil finally appeared; immediately I jumped up, grabbing Alberta's backpack. As I assisted assisting her into it and helped tighten the straps, I slipped my phone in the outside pocket. "Guardian Petrov, since I have to stay here, I thought I might send Abe the information you gave me so he can get started on what he needs to do. May I us your fax machine?"

"Of course—just dial nine to get an outside line." She watched Emil help Yeva to her feet, lowering her voice to a murmur. "I'm impressed with how maturely you're handling this. Most young people would have made a fuss."

"I'm not most young people, Madam—I was raised to respect my elders and their decisions." I smiled sweetly, moving over to retrieve the folder of information she'd given me from the depths of my bag. "If it is alright with you, I will tell Abe to deal directly with you as opposed to the headmistress, since you are the person who knows what's going on."

"That's fine. Here—" she grabbed a business card off her desk, offering it to me on her way to the door. "There's my contact information. Make sure the door clicks behind you when you leave—it locks automatically."

"Good luck—and be safe. I hope Yeva finds the answers that are needed."

I glanced at the clock as the door closed behind them—watching the second hand dance around its face. I'd wait a few minutes before checking the corridor—that was more than enough time for Yeva to make it to the buildings exit.

"I can't believe she did that."

"I can. She's stubborn," I answered, glancing over at him and arching a brow. "Surely you have noticed?"

"Well yeah… but that was a pretty crappy thing to do, leaving you behind. You have a right to be there too." He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Guess it's a moot point now—not much we can do about it."

"Want to bet on that?" I cracked open the door, peering up and down the hallway. "How well do you know the layout of this building?"

"Huh?"

"At Saint Basil's all of the supplies the guardians use are stored in the same building where their offices are—is it the same here?"

"I have no idea. Why?"

Ignoring his question, I closed the door, moving over to the desk and grabbing the phone—punching in the number I'd spent the last twenty minutes memorizing.

He answered on the first ring.

"Abe Mazur, who's this?"

"Vika. I need a favor."

"Another one? You're racking up one hell of a debt, kid."

"This one shouldn't cost me anything—it's something so simple it will take you less than a minute," I argued.

"A favor is a favor, no matter how great or small the effort might be, little girl—what do you need?"

"In thirty minutes or so I am going to call you back—I'll need you to give me the GPS coordinates of my phone."

"Do I want to know why?"

"I'll need to go get it. Needless to say… it would certainly make it easier if I knew the precise location."

"Did someone steal it?"

"No—I hid it in something I need to track." I sighed impatiently. "Look, I don't have all day to stand around and barter with you—will you do it or not?"

"I'll let you know when you call me back. And Viktoria—whatever it is you're doing… try not to get caught."

"Yes sir," I said. There was no response—he'd already hung up.

I returned the phone to its cradle, glancing over at Adrian; he was staring at me with a look of admiration on his face. "What?"

"You never intended to stay behind, did you?"

"Of course not—now get over here and help me look for her keys. She didn't put them in her backpack—I watched her pack it half a dozen times."

"Could have been in her pocket," he pointed out, coming around the desk to help me search.

"No—there wasn't a bulge in any of them. I looked."

We rifled through every single drawer, coming up empty handled. I cursed softly, but wasn't deterred—we'd just have to do it the hard way. I grabbed a piece of paper from her desk, tearing off a strip and wadding it up as I headed for the door. "Come on."

"Angel… what are you planning? "

"We need flashlights… and I need a stake." I crouched down, examining the metal plate in the doorframe, then shoved the paper I'd wadded up into the hole where the latch would normally catch. Pulling the door closed and reopening it confirmed that I'd been successful—my makeshift method for keeping the lock from engaging had worked. "That's why we have to find the storage room. At my school it's in the subbasement—that's probably where it is here too."

"And how exactly do we find it?"

"Simple, "I said, heading for the sign at the end of the hall marked 'stairwell', "we go down."

The door screeched loudly in protest when I opened it; I grabbed Adrian's hand, tugging him after me as I sprinted down the stairs—not stopping until he started wheezing loud enough for me to hear. I pulled him into a narrow sliver of darkness afforded by the tiny opening beneath the stairs so he could catch his breath. At least if anyone investigated the noise and peered over the railing, they wouldn't be able to see us hiding in the shadows.

"You do realize," Adrian whispered, leaning against the wall as he tried to slow his breathing, "that Allie's got all that stuff with her. We don't need to—"

"They'll have gone in long before we get there—we have to wait and get the location, remember? Then you have to add on the time it will take to reach the cave. Without flashlights we can't go in." I stuck my head out glancing up at the landing; there was no one there—we were safe. "Come on."

"What exactly do you think we're going to miss? It's a cave, Vik—musty, dirty… empty."

I walked slowly this time, keeping my strides short as we descended the remaining stairs; I didn't want to exhaust him before our expedition had even begun. "I'm not sure… it's just a feeling I got. When Petrov and I were talking about things… I got a feeling that there were answers to be found in that horrible place."

"Yeah, but are you considering the repercussions? If we're not here when your giant brother arrives, he's not going to be too happy. He's already twitchy about you hanging out with Johnson—if he thinks you've disappeared with him…"

"He's not coming—she was bluffing." I tugged open the door to what I hoped was the sub-basement—not that we really had another option. We'd reached the end of the stairs. "Number one, Dimitri wouldn't just up and leave his charge. Number two, neither would Roza—and do you _really _think she would let him make a trip back here… to the place where _it_ _happened_ without her?"

He scowled in irritation. "So why did she say—"

"I told you—it was a bluff. She probably didn't think I could handle seeing the spot where Dimitri died." Flicking the light switch, I immediately grimaced; the space in front of us wasn't anything like what I'd been hoping to find.

At Saint Basil's, the sub-basement beneath the Guardian's building was pretty much an armory; it was a maze of dark hallways that led to various rooms where anything and everything a guardian might need was stored. Saint Vladimir's was set up in a completely different way. The room in front of me was a huge, open space, lit by banks of bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and it was sectioned off into what looked like individual cages made of chain link fencing—each with a number affixed to the links and a padlock on the door.

Moving closer, I spotted furniture in some of the cages, while others held stacks of boxes with labels on them that said things like 'dishes' or 'summer clothes'. I realized this must be where the staff stored whatever personal belongings they couldn't fit in their rooms. Somewhere in this warren, there was a cage that Alberta paid for, filled with possessions that belonged to my brother—ones she'd believed he would never reclaim. I wondered if there were pictures tucked away inside it—photos of me and our family. Perhaps our images had helped him alleviate any loneliness—reminding him that we were waiting for him to visit home.

"This isn't it—I thought for sure it would be down here."

"Don't panic—we'll just go floor by floor until we find it." Adrian grabbed my hand, pulling me in for a quick hug. "We should probably split up though—we can cover more ground that way."

I considered what he'd said, chewing at my lip; he was right, of course—we didn't have nearly enough time to search the building thoroughly if we stuck together—but I didn't want him getting into trouble if he got caught snooping on his own. "Let's search the first floor together—if it's not there… then we'll split up."

Retracing our steps, we returned to the floor that held Alberta's office; we were lucky—most of the doors had little plaques beside them, indicating what they were. It was mainly comprised of office space—most of them empty—as well as a couple of large conference rooms and a staff lounge where the guardians took their breaks. Returning to the stairwell, I glanced down the long narrow hallway that sat in a recessed opening, branching off to the left; from its positioning, it was obvious that it led to the portion of the building where the novice academic classes were held. We didn't need to waste time searching in that direction—there was no way the supply room would be in an area where students could access it so easily.

Going up a level, we resumed our search; this floor was set up differently than the ground floor—the hall formed a T, jutting out in three different directions. Adrian took the corridor to the left while I went to the right—we agreed to meet up and search the remaining section together if need be. I'd searched four rooms, coming up empty handed when I heard Adrian's voice calling out to me.

"Vik—jackpot!"

I jogged in the direction of his voice; as I rounded the corner, he glanced my way and frowned. "There's no way we're getting in here sweetheart—it's locked up like Fort Knox."

I hurried over, ignoring his pessimism—I might not be good at much, but one thing I'm excellent at is getting in locked rooms. Crouching down, I examined the locks—there were two of them beside the standard issue one on the knob; I could handle that one easily enough, but unfortunately, the two additional ones were both well beyond my meager skills.

"Told you. Guess we're out of luck," Adrian muttered, scowling at the door.

I glanced up, running my eyes along the left side of the door frame; if the door opened outward, the hinges would be outside. All we would have to do in that case would be remove the pins and slip inside—but of course… we weren't that fortunate. My eyes moved further upward, raking along the ceiling; it was the same kind we had at Saint Basil's—square acoustic tiles that rested in a metal frame.

I studied it for a moment, then grinned. "Not yet we aren't. I told you before… I am _very_ good at getting into places where I'm not supposed to be."

"Yeah? Well unless you can teleport—"his voice trailed off abruptly as I stood and moved to test the doors on either side of the storage room; the first one was locked. The second one wasn't.

"Come on—I've got an idea." I said, flicking the light switch as I hurried into the room.

"Why does that scare me?" Despite his statement, he followed me with a wary look on his face. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as his eyes traveled around the room. "So? Enlighten me Angel—what's the plan?"

The space of around us was empty except for a plastic trashcan and one of those rolling white boards that have made blackboards obsolete; I'd been hoping for a desk or in the very least a file cabinet—something I could _use._ I cursed softly, frowning as I gaged the distance from floor to ceiling—I estimated it to be about nine and a half feet… perhaps ten, but no more.

"How steady are you on your feet? Can you keep your balance pretty good?"

He frowned. "I suppose so. Was that supposed to answer my question? Hate to break it to you… it didn't."

"Watch and learn," I teased, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the wall. "Put your hands flat—like you are trying to do a push up. No—like this… stand like someone is about to pat you down…you know, searching you for contraband."

I demonstrated what I meant, then reached over, guiding him into the position I needed him to be in. When I slid a hand between his legs to make him spread them further out, he chuckled, glancing back at me and flashing a suggestive grin.

"Hey now—no getting frisky. We've got someplace to be, remember?"

"Very funny. Just brace yourself, okay? Lean against the wall for support… and whatever you do… don't move." I dropped my bag and placed my hands on his shoulders, then took a deep breath and hoisted myself up—positioning my foot on his thigh to help me climb his body. His healing had not only helped my tired, aching muscles and reinvigorated me—it seemed to have given me a boost in strength, making the task far easier than I'd imagined it would be.

"Vika—what the _hell_?" His head swiveled as I moved higher; I was in the process of slowly standing up on his shoulders when his sudden movement almost unbalanced me. I swayed for a moment, on the verge of tumbling backwards—but he reached up, grabbing my calves to steady me. "You're going to get hurt!"

"I will if you keep moving around! Stop squirming and stand still!" I grumbled, regaining my balance. I reached up to the ceiling, pushing up on the tile above me and sliding it to the side.

The next part was the tricky one—the metal framing wasn't very strong, so I'd have to move quickly or risk it breaking which would send me hurtling towards the ground. I grabbed onto it and pulled myself up into the darkness, immediately reaching for the wooden support beams that ran parallel from one wall to the next along the length of the room. It was good to know that some things were universal—like the crawl spaces in ceilings.

"Goddamn it—what is this, Mission fucking Impossible?"

"Obviously not—I don't have any fancy gadgets to help me." I stuck my head over the opening, sticking out my tongue.

He didn't laugh—in fact, he was gazing up at me with a frustrated look on his face. "Not cool Vik."

I shifted my position, wincing as a splinter bit into my palm. "Can we talk about this when I'm not ten feet in the air? Just grab my bag and go wait outside the door—I'll unlock it."

"You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"I prefer to think of it as highly determined. It's an easy enough task, Dusha—getting up here was the hard part. Now it's just a matter of crawling a foot or two and dropping down in the storage room. Go on—I'll see you in a few minutes." I maneuvered myself around—not an easy task for someone my size while in a crawlspace—carefully making my way by sliding my hands and feet along the beam in a hunched over position. If I'd had to do it for very long, my back would start to hurt—lucky for me it was just a matter of clearing the wall between the two rooms.

Once I was over the wall, I felt around in front of me, prying up a ceiling tile and gazing down into the darkened room below; dropping down would actually be a little harder than I'd let on—I had no way of knowing what might be below me. I shifted around as best I could, letting my legs dangle over the hole for a moment before stretching one out into the void; it something solid almost right away—that was a very good sign. Lowering myself down carefully until my feet were firmly planted, I immediately crouched and felt around with my hands, trying to determine how much space I had to work with. It wasn't a lot—my best guess was that I was on a shelving unit of some kind, but as narrow as it was, it made reaching the floor much easier since I could use the shelves as an impromptu ladder of sorts. I was careful as I crossed the room, keeping my arms stretched out in front of me; my senses were heightened, but that didn't mean I wanted to risk smacking face first into a wall or the sharp pointed corner of another shelving unit.

By the time I got the lights on and the door unlocked and open, Adrian was pacing back and forth in the hall; if that wasn't enough to clue me in on his nervous state, the drumming of his fingers on his thigh certainly would have given it away.

"See? Piece of cake." I smiled, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Maybe for you it was—I'm not used to watching my girlfriend do shit like that."

"You dated Roza," I pointed out. My eyes were already moving over the shelves, trying to find what we would need. "I'm sure she did things that were a whole lot more daring that crawling through a ceiling, Dusha."

"Touché—but with her I expected it. I knew she was a loose cannon _before_ we got involved."

I hesitated, frowning. For a moment, I didn't trust myself to speak. His tone of voice seemed almost reproachful—like I'd purposefully been hiding something important from him. Averting my eyes, I moved to the closest shelf. "Are you saying that if you'd known my personality and Roza's were similar on some things… you wouldn't have gotten involved with me?"

"What? That's not what—"

"If you're having second thoughts and you want to call this… whatever it is… off… you can. I would still give you blood, if that's what you're worried about—"

"Vika—"

I ignored his interruption—hurrying to get out what had to be said before I started to cry. "I won't change who I am for anyone, Adrian. Not even for you."

It hurt to say that—it felt like I'd swallowed broken glass—but it had to be done. If he couldn't accept _me—_faults and all—then there was no point in dragging things out. I would not be one of those girls that betrays herself and her values to please a man. I _couldn't—_it was far too easy for me to remember my mother making that mistake with my father. Though it would shatter my heart and soul to lose him, I couldn't be anything other than what I was, remaining true to _myself_ first and foremost; to do anything less would not be an act of love—it would be an empty, meaningless thing.

"That's not what I as saying _at all_, Vika." He moved—a moment later his arms slid around me, pulling me back against his chest. I could feel his body trembling against mine—it made me wonder if the thought of ending things bothered him as much as it did me. "Just… _warn_ me next time, okay? I wasn't prepared for you to go all ninja on me."

"Are you _sure _ that's all it was?" I asked softly, still staring at the shelves; I was afraid of what I might see in his eyes if I dared to turn my head.

"The only thing I'm unsure of is whether or not the fact you don't know how amazing you are is refreshing…or frustrating. Either way, I'm not a fool—I know a good thing when it's right in front of me."

A sound of relief escaped me as I leaned back into the warmth of his body. It felt like a giant, crushing weight was lifting from my chest. I'd overreacted, which was embarrassing, but at least the air had been cleared—now he knew my position on the issue, so there was no chance of a misunderstanding later on. "Just good, huh? Not great?"

He growled playfully, tightening his arms around me. "Great. Fabulous. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastik. Gorgeous. Sexy as hell—I'd keep going, but I'm afraid you might get an ego the size of Rose's. Plus… I do believe we've got a party to crash."

I laughed softly, turning my head to brush a gentle kiss against his cheek. "You're right—start looking flashlights. And a stake—even one of the plastic practice ones will do."

As he moved to start searching, I began grabbing things at random from the shelf in front of me; a length of rope, bright fluorescent chalk—things we might not need, but since I'd never been in a cave and we wouldn't have the benefit of Alberta or Emil guiding us through it, it was better to err on the side of caution. "If you see a backpack, grab it. My duffle bag might be too bulky to maneuver with once we get inside."

"I suppose you've got a plan for how we're going to get there? Hotwiring a car, maybe?

I frowned at him. "Why does everyone keep assuming I know how to do that? I'm not some kind of criminal!"

He shot me a pointed look. "Says the girl who just climbed through the ceiling to burglarize the guardian's bat cave."

"This is borrowing, not burglary." I huffed indignantly. "Knowing how to steal a car is something else entirely—besides, we don't have to do anything that drastic. They think you are a guardian, yes? So we will go to the motor pool and request a car."

"Beauty and brains… quite a combo. I think I'm beginning to understand Rose's obsession with Russians."

I smiled as I moved on to the next set of shelves, unable to resist teasing him a bit. "You realize that you just inadvertently complimented my brother too, right?"

He chuckled softly, but when he spoke, there was no amusement in his voice—it was completely earnest. "He's your brother—I can't just randomly insult him anymore. I'm not saying I won't relapse a time or two… but I promise that I'm trying, Angel."

"Thank you—I appreciate that. I know how hard it is for you to—"

"Exactly what in the hell is going on here?"

I jumped at the unexpected voice. Spinning around, I came face to face with Stan Alto—who looked livid, to put it mildly. If his face was any redder, he might suffer a stroke. "Who gave you two clearance to be in here?"

I was at a complete loss; in all my years of sneaking around Saint Basil's, I'd never _once_ gotten caught. "I… uh… we were… uh…"

"Assessing the inventory to see what might be needed," Adrian inserted smoothly, crossing the room to stand beside me. "It's all part of the fund Mr. Mazur is setting up—he wants to make sure the staff has the best equipment available."

"Is that so?" Alto's eyes ran over the items I'd dropped beside my bag. "Because it certainly doesn't look that way to me—I'd say the two of you are raiding our supplies, not supplementing them."

Adrian stepped forward, ducking his head down a few inches so his eyes were level with the guardian's. "You're completely wrong—we aren't stealing anything. In fact… we're not even here at all."

I groaned as goose bumps danced along my skin. It was almost impossible to ignore the surge of desire that flared up when he pulled Spirit. It didn't last long—a sharp, stabbing pain behind my eyes chased away the arousal almost as soon as it began. The pain was so intense that it almost brought me to my knees, though that also could have been the result of the deep feeling of unease that accompanied it. It was almost a sense of forewarning—telling me that he _shouldn't_ be using his amped up compulsion so freely… it would lead to trouble in the end.

"Dusha, don't—please."

"Relax Angel… what was it you said? This is a piece of cake for—"

"No! I mean it!" I shoved him, hoping it would break his concentration. "This is my problem—let me handle it, okay?" I stepped directly in front of him, not waiting for an answer; Alto shook his head, looking more than a little dazed. "I was _borrowing_ what I needed to go to the cave where the Strigoi camped out. Alberta Petrov and Emil took my grandmother, but she made me stay behind."

"Why would she do that?" His eyes searched mine—perhaps looking for any sign that I was being less than truthful. He could search all he wanted—there was no lie there to see.

"Honestly? I don't know. I suspect she was trying to spare me from seeing where my brother was turned, but whatever her reasoning might be… it doesn't matter. I have a right to see the spot , and since I am a legal adult, no one can stop me from going." I glanced over at the supplies I'd commandeered, letting out a sign. "I mean… you can certainly stop me from taking that stuff… but I'll go with or without them."

He stared at me for a moment, then brushed past me without uttering a word. I watched as he grabbed a flashlight off the shelf, my eyes following him as he stalked around the room, mumbling under his breath as he grabbed things off the shelves.

Adrian raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. "Probably should have stuck with doing it my way, sweetheart."

"We'll talk about _that_ later." I frowned, irritated at the fact I was starting to sound like Yeva.

"Here—I noticed you don't have one Johnson. You'll need it. Try not to lose them—they're expensive." Alto held out two stakes; when we didn't immediately take them, he scowled with displeasure. "Well? Do you want them or not?"

"I…yes. We do."I grabbed one, elbowing Adrian. He looked completely taken aback, but he reached out and grabbed the other, holding it gingerly, as if he were afraid it might bite.

"I'll meet you out front in fifteen minutes—" the guardian's tone was almost friendly for the first time since I'd met him. "—make sure you close the door on your way out."

I stared at him dumbly. "What?"

"I'm going to get a car—it's faster than going on foot."

"But… why?"

"I just told you—it's faster to go by the interstate," he said, his voice full of impatience. "It's a longer route, but it takes half the time."

"No—that's not what I meant. Why are you doing this?"

"Don't think it's because I'm sentimental—I'm not. Your grandmother was right—I failed him that night. We all did. Belikov never would have left one of us behind—he would have stayed and fought to the death if that's what was needed." He paused, his eyes dropping down to the floor; he suddenly seemed much younger than I'd estimated, making me wonder if his abrupt, brusque rudeness was a mask he'd worn so frequently that it wasn't easily shed. "Helping you is the least I can do. You held your own today. It was impressive… it reminded me of him."

I watched him walk out the door, so startled I could barely speak. "Did that just happen, or am I having delusions?"

"It happened…. I think we better look for jackets. If Alto is complimenting people…hell must be freezing over."

I grabbed my bag and began shoving the things we'd gathered inside; Adrian held out his stake for me to add to the load—I shook my head, refusing to take it. "Since I suppose it would be pointless to ask you to wait for me in Petrov's office… I want you to be armed."

"More than pointless—it'd be a total waste of time." He studied the stake for a moment, his lips twitching up at the sides. "I don't know how to use this thing, Angel—I'd probably end up hurting _myself_ if I tried."

"If we run into a Strigoi in the cave and it gets too close, you can use it to hold them off. Rake the tip along their face or arm or whatever is within reach.. But…I'd really be more comfortable with you staying inside the wards."

"Look I know you guys have it beaten into your heads that you have to protect Moroi at all times, but—"

"You are an idiot if you think this has anything to do with the fact you are a Moroi." I snapped. "I don't want you going because I _care_ about you—I don't want you to get hurt. Alto and Emil think you're a Guardian—if we run into trouble, they're not going to realize you have no idea what to do."

"I'm not _totally _helpless, Vik. Spirit users can pull on all of the elements—we just can't use as much as someone who specializes might. I'm willing to bet I can muster up a little fire if my ass is on the line."

He held the door open, indicating I should go first; I walked past him, only to be stopped by his hand grabbing my arm. "Speaking of Spirit… why'd you stop me? It's not like using it will make me nuts anymore." His hand slid up my arm, moving to my neck—his fingertips caressed the spot where he'd bitten down.

I shivered. I couldn't help it. "I don't know… I just got a weird feeling. Remember what you said to Alberta? About why the books might have been stolen? Well if people find out how strong your compulsion can be…"

He nodded as my voice trailed off, grimacing at what I had left unsaid. "They'd freak out. No one wants to think someone has that kind of power."

"Exactly. And if you keep doing it to people… eventually someone is bound to catch on. All it would take is one person to start a panic."

"You could be just a little paranoid, sweetheart. It's not like they'd come after us with pitchforks and torches—this isn't the dark ages."

"I am sure the women who were accused of witchcraft in Salem thought the same thing—or if you would like a more recent example, look at the Ruska Roma. They have been persecuted for centuries just for being different," I said, frowning. It was a touchy subject for me since Yeva insisted there was a touch of Ruska near the roots of our family tree. "Fear of the unknown drives even the most civilized people to do horrible, horrible things."

"So… you think the Moroi would… what? Round up all the Spirit users and lock them away somewhere? Come on Vik—"

"Don't say that—not even as a joke!" I snapped, wincing as another stab of pain lanced behind my eyes. "It _could_ happen Adrian! Roza told me about the special ward in Tarasov—are you willing to risk ending up like that?"

"Lissa would never let that happen," he said gently. "And for something of that magnitude… the council would have to have the Queen's approval—"

I dropped my bag, reaching up and grabbing his face between my palms; I didn't know why, but my heart was racing—I had to make him understand. "Queens can be _silenced_, Dusha—you should know that better than anyone. All it takes is one assassin slipping into a room. Lissa is already in a precarious position—if the Moroi decided that Spirit was too dangerous… they would do away with her too."

He looked taken completely aback by what I'd said; it made me wonder if it was the first time he'd ever faced the brutal truth. Tatiana's death had been a warning sign—one he apparently hadn't processed. The former queen had brought him up pampered and protected in the shadow of her crown—and because of that, he actually _believed_ that Royalty was an unbreakable shield that would always keep him safe. It wasn't—history was littered with Nobles who had shared the same mistaken belief right up until the moment their wings were clipped and they slowly plummeted from grace. I couldn't help but wondered if those poor, misguided fools had finally seen the light of truth in the dark moments before their executions.

The thought of Adrian locked away or meeting the same fate as Tatiana terrified me, but at the same time, it awoke a fierce protectiveness in me too. Gazing into his eyes, I swore to myself that _I_ would do what his Royal blood could not—I would keep him _safe_, no matter what the cost.

"I am not asking you to stop using your magic, moy Dusha—I know that you couldn't, not even if you wanted to." I stroked the pad of my thumbs along his cheekbones, trying to hide my fear so he would not see it reflected in my eyes. "I am just asking you to please be more careful about who you use it on. I don't want anything bad to happen."

_But it will. It must. _

It echoed through my mind, chiming sweetly like a bell. I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood; he didn't notice—he had turned his face to press his lips against my palm.

"Do you really think that could happen?"

"I don't know… but I don't think you should risk it. I mean… think about this—all those Spirit users that are locked away in Tarasov? What proof do we have that they were really insane _before_ their incarceration? Maybe they were perfectly fine when they got locked up, and the years of captivity is what slowly eroded their minds. There has to be a reason that people forgot about Spirit for such a long time, Dusha—a reason why the people who had it suddenly started keeping it a secret. If the Council burned the Royal library in an attempt to destroy all the books that talked about Spirit… what else might they do to keep the secret hidden away forever?"

"We need to say something to Lissa—or better yet, mention it to Rose and let her take it from there. Lissa will be more likely to listen to her than she would to me." He sighed. "It won't be easy either way—Lissa is like me. She uses it without thinking… and I hate to say it, but lately she's been acting a little… off."

"I know. The day we went shopping she started to slip." I frowned, thinking about the way the young queen had been so dead set against wearing a charmed ring that might help her control the tumultuous element that threatened her mind. "Yeva said she won't last more than a year or two at most."

Maybe I can start healing her," he mused, grabbing my bag and taking my hand as we headed for the stairs. "If charmed silver helps, then a direct blast of healing should help her even more. I never tried it before because it would have been too risky, but now… if it drains me too much… you can help with that."

I had a feeling that what he was suggesting would be a temporary fix at best—like putting a bandage over a gaping wound without stitching it up first; you might initially stop the bleeding, but underneath the gauze, the wound would remain open, festering and never fully healing.

"I don't know if that will work, Dusha—Yeva said there was no help for her, remember? I'm not saying you shouldn't try," I added quickly when he looked like he was about to protest, "just don't get your hopes up too much."

I knew that theoretically, the Spirit in my blood _should_ be able to help Lissa too—but between the things Yeva had mentioned and what I'd felt when Adrian fed, I suspected that wasn't the way it worked. Perhaps in some strange way it was like donating an organ—everyone might have the same parts inside of them, but only certain people could be matched up in the end.

We both fell silent as we walked towards the exit; it wasn't until his hand was on the door that I remembered Abe was waiting for my call. " I have to call Abe back—I can't leave him waiting. Will you tell Alto I will only be a minute?"

"I can come with—"

"No—he might get impatient and change his mind or have another weird mood swing. I'll practically be right behind you."

Before he could object further, I spun around, jogging back in the direction of the lead guardian's office. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of telling Abe that I had wasted his time—I had a feeling that wasn't something he'd appreciate in the least—but I couldn't exactly avoid calling him either. If he didn't hear back from me, he'd probably assume the worst and do something drastic or double whatever it was he was charging me—I just hoped that whatever he demanded in exchange for the additional favor was something that I could pay. I dialed the phone and waited for him to pick up, trying to ignore the prickling that shivered through my mind—a warning to watch my step. However kindly the man might act towards me, I could not allow myself to forget that Zmey was very, _very_ dangerous person to be indebted to for any length of time.

The conversation didn't go quite the way I'd expected; instead of angry indignation, the Moroi seemed almost _relieved _to hear that I'd found another option. I soon understood why; for all my scheming, I had not stopped to consider one very important detail—GPS or not, it was impossible to track a cell phone that was surrounded by layers of rock, deep inside a cave. By the time I said goodbye, I'd successfully confirmed two very important things: Zmey agreed that our deal was void since he hadn't been able to produce what I needed—and Dimitri was still at court. As pleased as I was at having gotten my way with Abe, I knew better than to gloat. Something told me I'd have need of him again in the future, so I had to stay on his good side, no matter what it took. I hung up the phone and practically ran to the car, hoping that Alto and Adrian hadn't killed each other in the interim.

It was time to head to the cave.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry for the long A/N—I try to space them out, lol._**

_**—First: I apologize for any typos or obvious fuck ups. I attempted to edit this one, but it's 5:00 am here and I still have not slept. My handwriting is sometimes rather hard to decipher, and insomnia... is a bitch.**_

_**—Second: A**_**_s always, thanks for the wonderful reviews, thoughtful comments—and for wanting to read more about Vidrian. I appreciate you all so, so much. ;_****_o)_**

**_—Final: _****_I have received several private messages asking the same two questions, so I am going to respond to them here where it can be seen by anyone who might be wondering the same thing. _****_PLEASE BE ADVISED: When you ask for my opinion, you get just that. I do not sugar coat things—I'm sorry, but that's just not me. I am blunt, honest, and I do not BS—keep that in mind when/if you read the Q &amp;A below. (And actually, these answers are pretty nice, for me. If you don't believe me, just take a look at some of the posts tagged anon on guardianrose's tumblr. )_**

**—Q: Will you still be updating this fic despite what was revealed in The Ruby Circle?**

**_A: Of course I will. Canon for me ended on the last page of The Golden Lily. I _****_do not_****_ acknowledge any book that occurred after that point—for me, they do not exist, and NONE of my fics will follow their events in any way, shape or form._**

**—Q: Have you read The Ruby Circle/what did you think of it?**

**_A: I hated it. In my opinion, it reads like a horribly written fanfic. It is filled with clichéd tropes, possessive sue/stu(s) and almost every single character is so –out of character- that they are barely recognizable—ESPECIALLY Rose and Dimitri at the end of the book._**

**_Basically, if you buy the book, be advised that you are paying for something that is subpar to 95% of the fanfics that are_****_ free_****_ on this site. I personally don't think VA/BL fans should pay for a canon novel that reads like a really bad Degrassi fanfic—but hey, maybe that's just me._**

**_I have a full review of this book up on Goodreads; if you are interested in reading it, just go to goodreads and add /samwysesr to the end of the url or search –people- for samwysesr. I will also add a link to the review on my profile page here, but lately it seems to take a few days before profile updates go through._**

**_There are spoilers on the review, but I have them hidden. If you actually want to see them, you have to click on 'show spoiler'. I also gave a synopsis of the key points in the book and detailed what was wrong with them/ how they clashed with VA canon. I also have a couple replies in the comments as well that elaborate on a couple of the reasons Sydrian does not work. (Trust me, I have wayyy more reasons than the ones listed there, but writing long replies takes me away from important things, like updating fics!) :oD_**


	19. Chapter 19: Consternation

_Dear Diary,_

_We made the trip in silence, though I did thank Alto profusely for waiting when I joined them in the car. He didn't respond, though the rim of his ears reddened; obviously the man is either not used to helping people, or not used to being thanked for his efforts—I'm not sure which._

_Some people might have found the weight of the quiet grating—after all, it continued after we parked the car and set out on foot, traipsing through the forest—but as I have said time and time again, I am not like most people. My brother and I are two of a kind—we relish times of silence because it allows us think about the things that trouble us so that we can better overcome them. I was actually glad that no one was talking—it gave me time to contemplate and conquer the fear that was slowly clawing at my stomach. With every step we took, I became more tense and ill at ease. _

I was afraid… of the cave.

Even though my grandmother's prediction about my brother had already come to fruition, I was becoming more and more nervous about entering such a place. I'd spent my entire life avoiding caves—it was something that had been programed into my brain from a very young age. Though they no longer presented a danger to Dimitri, that kind of conditioning is not something that just disappears overnight. When something is so deeply rooted in your psyche, it becomes second nature to you—like breathing or blinking, it is something that affects you, whether you want it to or not. That fear will always be a part of me, no matter how foolish it seems; it will linger on and on in my subconscious, affecting my thoughts and actions… probably until the day I take my last breath.

Ahead of me, Alto stopped walking abruptly and I stumbled, nearly slamming into him. "Once we get inside, I'll take point. Johnson—I want you bringing up the rear. Be on the alert—if you spot anything out of the ordinary, bring it to my attention immediately."

"Petrov's group is already in there," Adrian pointed out. "If there were any Strigoi—"

"It's not Strigoi I'm worried about. The academy is surrounded by privately held land, but on the other side of that land, it's all a Federal Wildlife Preserve. Animals don't care about boundaries—any number of creatures could have taken up residence in the cave since the last time we were there."

"What kind of animals are we talking about?" Adrian asked.

"Best case? Maybe a bobcat or a black bear."

I frowned. "And the worst case?"

"Mountain lion. If we're really unlucky… a grizzly."

Adrian visibly paled, making the strangest sound—though I wasn't sure why. "I know what a mountain lion is… I have seen them on television, but what is this… grizzly?"

Alto looked at me like it was the most incredibly asinine question that he'd ever heard. "A bear."

I blushed, feeling stupid at my ignorance—but if I didn't ask questions, then I would never learn anything. "So why is it worse than the other kind of bear? I mean a bear is a bear, right?"

"Black bears are generally pretty shy—they avoid confrontation. Grizzly bears don't. They're bigger and meaner—especially if their cubs are around." He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "They're actually a type of brown bear like the ones you have in Russia—but I believe Siberian bears are bigger, especially the ones in the Far Eastern districts."

I suddenly understood why Adrian was disturbed. If grizzly bears were like the ones we had in the north eastern region, saying they were mean was the understatement of the year. The bears sometimes did not retire for their long winter sleep and as a result, they were often rendered quite insane. "Are your American bears crazy? Or do they sleep in the winter?"

"Huh?" Alto looked confused. "Oh—you're talking about the Kamchatka bears. The 'insomnia' bears, correct?"

I nodded, moving closer to Adrian: I was suddenly over conscious of the fact we were deep in the woods and what that might mean. The forest around us didn't seem peaceful and inviting anymore; I began to study the trees around us, looking for any sign of wildlife—though I wasn't really sure exactly what I'd do if a bear suddenly rushed us. That was one scenario we'd certainly never discussed or covered in any of my training classes.

"No. Grizzly bears hibernate—that's the problem." His expression shifted, becoming grim. "This is the time of the year they start looking for dens so the sows can prepare to give birth. A cave like this one… it's prime real estate for a pregnant grizzly—I'm surprised Alberta didn't take that into consideration."

"Maybe she did—I bet Yeva could take down a grizzly with one hand tied behind her back." Adrian smiled, trying for levity to lighten the tension in the air, but it sounded forced and fell flat.

"Hopefully they haven't had to test that theory," I muttered, glancing over at him and frowning. There was no way in hell I could let him play rear guard. "I need to take the rear position, Guardian Alto."

"Non-negotiable." Alto shifted the lapel of his jacket, displaying the holstered sidearm he wore on the left side of his body. "We're armed with more than just stakes—you're not."

I sighed. "He isn't—and he has no idea how to use a stake."

"Of course he does—that happen to be a _requirement _ for guardians, young lady."

"He's not really a guardian." I frowned. "Dusha… take off your ring."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vika. He'll tell—"

"Just do it—please. Your safety is more important than my brother finding out who you are. Guardian Alto has to know where he needs to focus his protective efforts if something happens once we're inside."

Alto's eyes—which were flicking between us—almost popped out of his head when Adrian tugged off the ring and shoved it in his pocket. He stared, mouth open—sputtering indignantly—then his face turned an alarming shade of red. "Is this your idea of a joke? Coming here and pretending to be one of us?"

I knew I had to defuse the situation fast—before it got completely out of hand. "That's not it at all—but it is a long, complicated story and we do not have time to get into it right now."

"It's really not that complicated, Vik." Adrian was trying not to smile, but the way his lips were twitching betrayed him. "See, her brother doesn't approve of me—"

"Imagine that," Alto muttered sarcastically.

Adrian ignored him. "—so in order to spend time with her I had to develop an alter ego that Belikov would be okay with. Think of it as Romeo and Juliet… minus the whole dying thing."

"I think I prefer her answer—at least it gave me plausible deniability when Belikov finds out." The guardian's jaw tensed, his eyes moving away from us to scan the trees. "Don't worry—there's no way in hell I'm going to be the one to open that can of worms."

Without another word, he started walking again; I gestured for Adrian to follow him as I fell back into the position of rear guard. The man's reaction surprised me; from the moment we'd met, I'd thought Alto was little more than an overgrown bully—but a bully certainly wouldn't be able to pass up the opportunity to wreak havoc by blabbing our secret to Dimitri. He was turning out to be an enigma; the more time I spent with him, the more his actions made me reassess my first impression.

Adrian shot me a quizzical look as I sped up and passed him; I waved him off, closing the distance between myself and the guardian and falling into step beside him. I had to make sure that he'd meant what he said—if Dimitri was going to learn the truth, it needed to come from Adrian and me, not some outside source—but I also had the strangest urge to learn more about the man so I could better reevaluate my opinion of him.

The guardian glanced over at me, frowning. "Guarding the rear means just that, Novice Belikova. In case it escaped you… this happens to be the lead."

"I am aware of that." I trained my eyes on the path ahead of us, racking my brain for something to say. "You certainly know a lot about animals."

He shrugged.

His standoffish behavior wasn't a surprise—I tried again. "To know as much as you do about the wildlife in Russia… have you been there?"

"No. I haven't."

"So… how do you know so much about it then? Television, perhaps?"

"I read—you do know what books are, I assume?" he snapped.

"There is no need to get testy." It was very hard for me to hold my tongue—my first impulse was to snap back. "You must read quite a bit."

"Animals interest me. Part of the reason I requested this academy was because of the wildlife preserve—I spend most of my time off there." He glanced over at me, frowning. "What is it you really want to ask, Belikova? I can tell you've got something on your mind—it's obvious that you're trying to butter me up by feigning interest in my recreational pursuits."

"That's not entirely true—I happen to be rather interested in nature myself. Is it so hard to believe that I would enjoy discussing it with someone who has a similar interest? Most of my classmates think it is a complete waste of time, so I don't get to talk about it much at home."

He eyed me suspiciously. "I already said I wasn't going to tell your brother—this little act is a complete waste of time."

"I am not lying about my interests and I resent your implying otherwise." I was getting irritated, extremely fast. "Just because I didn't know what a grizzled bear was—"

"Grizzly bear—not grizzled."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't make fun of my English!"

"I wasn't—I was correcting you."

"That is the exact same thing!"

"It isn't." He actually had the audacity to smile at my anger. "But by all means if you want to go around calling them grizzled bears and look like a complete idiot—"

A sound of pure annoyance escaped me. "You are the most frustrating person I have ever met!"

"I find that hard to believe since you've obviously met your brother's girlfriend."

Adrian snorted. "He's got you there."

Clenching my jaw tightly, I tried to control my temper before I did something I might later regret. "I admit I have questions about the cost of your silence—"

"There is not cost—I can't be bought or sold." His smile twisted into the scowl I was accustomed to seeing on his face.

"Then why—"

"Maybe because Belikov doesn't have the right to pass judgment on anyone—not after getting involved with a student," he said, his voice was laced with anger, "Or maybe I was in a similar situation as yours—take your pick."

The second part of his statement startled me so much I let his comment about my brother slide; I couldn't picture the man beside me ever finding anyone who could tolerate his prickly personality. "Your family didn't approve?"

"Hers didn't." He jerked his head towards Adrian. "His won't either—it won't end well Belikova. Royals are all the same—we're good enough to die for them, but that's the only use they have for us."

"Hey!" Adrian pushed between us, glaring at the guardian. "I don't give a shit what my parents think—"

"You say that now—but when they threaten to cut you off you'll change your tune fast enough. You all do." Alto glanced over at me, glowering. "Fall back into your position—or this expedition is over."

I stopped walking, waiting for him to outpace me. Adrian glared at his back for a moment, then his eyes flicked over meeting mine. They were full of worry, as if he thought I might actually give some merit to what the guardian had said. "He's wrong—I wouldn't do that."

"I know you wouldn't—he is just a bitter man. He doesn't want to believe that the woman he loved chose money over him."

"Can't say I blame her—he's an asshole," he muttered.

"Don't you see Dusha? That's _why_ he's the way he is," I said softly. "She threw him away—the same way Roza did with you."

"Damn it… now it's going to be really hard to dislike him." His eyes moved back to Alto; the man was almost out of sight, weaving through the trees. "I'd like to say I wasn't as resentful as he is… but it would be a lie."

I reached down and took his hand, entwining our fingers as we moved down the trail. "Be that as it may… you seem to be improving more day by day"

He smiled. "Meeting an angel tends to change a man's outlook on things—maybe that's what Alto needs."

"Whatever you do, don't mention that in front of Yeva—she's determined to find Sonya a husband, and I really do not think I could stomach being related to that man."

He leaned forward, his voice a teasing whisper as his lips brushed against my ear. "Funny—a week ago I would have said the same thing about Dimitri Belikov. Never say never, Angel—keep that in mind."

His lips were on mine before I could respond—not that I was complaining. I leaned into him, letting myself be swept away by the warm rush that accompanied his kiss. It didn't matter what anyone said—not Alto or Roza or even Dimitri—they could doubt his motivations and make their dire predictions until they were blue in the face. The magic that existed between us was a real, tangible thing—I could feel it racing through me, every time we touched, and nothing would ever convince me otherwise. I believed in him, and I could only hope that in time, my brother would see the light and accept Adrian the same way I'd accepted his Roza—with an open heart and no questions asked.

The distant sound of Alto's angry sounding voice shouting 'Belikova' finally snapped us out of our far too brief interlude; Adrian chucked against my lips before he pulled away. "Guess we should try and catch up, huh? He sounds pretty pissed off."

"He has no one to blame but himself—after all, he's the one who stormed off on his own. It is not our fault we got… distracted." I said, smiling as I slipped my hand into his.

Alto hadn't gone far—we caught up in a matter of minutes. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree staring off into space; he straightened as we approached him, shooting a dark look at both of us. "Took you long enough. If you hadn't wasted so much time we'd already be inside."

It took me a minute to process what he meant; when I did, a chill ran down my spine. He hadn't been daydreaming at all…he'd been staring at a shadowy recess at the base of the mountain that was perhaps twenty feet away from the spot where we stood.

Eyeing the entrance, I realized I'd been so focused on _getting_ there that I hadn't actually thought about the actual _act_ of going in. I'd focused on conquering my fear and the myriad of other emotions that sprang up at the thought of visiting the spot where Dimitri had died and been resurrected as a monster, but I hadn't stopped to think about what the site might actually _be_ like. I was unprepared for what lay before us—which wasn't a good thing for someone like me. You see, I have always had a bit of a problem with my imagination. It is extremely fertile—to the point of being overactive, which sometimes isn't the best thing.

Now was definitely one of those times.

I'm often prone to flights of fancy; I hear something, and immediately, my mind reacts by conjuring up images of how things might play out. Nine times out of ten, it bypasses any positive outcome and focuses on the worst case scenario, as pessimistic as that might seem. It is why I often overreact and jump to the wrong conclusion—the way I'd done with Adrian in the storeroom. Even more problematic is the way my imagination exaggerates certain things—like the time when I was ten and Mama told us she'd seen a stray dog near the meadow where we always played. It was an innocent enough statement**; **she wanted us to be careful when we were outside and to avoid the animal, but immediately my mind kicked into overdrive, concocting images of a giant, rabid beast—it was a hellhound of nightmarish proportions. I scared myself so much that I was terrified to go outside alone—even just to get the laundry from the line seemed like a dangerous thing to do. When I actually ran into the dog a week later on the outskirts of the yard, my automatic response was to scream; I don't know who was more scared that day—me or that poor old half blind poodle with its coat full of knots and burrs.

As we traipsed across the scrub grass approaching the dark mouth of the cave, my imagination kicked into overdrive—it summoned up all kinds of images that filled me with tension, making it hard to breathe. Paintings I had studied in art appreciation class flickered through my mind—works by Bosch and Memling that depicted Dante's version of hell—lost souls being tortured in the cavernous depths of purgatory. I shuddered, trying to shove the images aside. Don't get me wrong—logically, I knew that the cave wasn't some kind of portal that led straight to hell; there wouldn't be pits of fire and the air would be stifling hot, laced with the scent of brimstone—but the mind can be very funny thing. In moments of stress, it often latches on to things it would not normally believe. For me, this—unfortunately—was one of those times.

I watched as Stan disappeared into the darkness; a heartbeat later, Adrian was gone too. _"_Abandon hope all ye who enter here," I murmured, then took a deep breath, stepping inside.

Reality was almost a letdown compared to what I'd been expecting.

The dim light filtering in from outside revealed nothing more than a narrow tunnel made up of rough stone; it disappeared into blackness around a bend about six feet ahead of us. As Alto approached the curve, he flicked on his light, not waiting to see if we were following. He didn't get very far—he stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner; I watched as he paled, an expression that was almost…panicked…darting across his face. The beam from his flashlight was visibly shifting—jerking slowly from side to side.

His hands were shaking.

I flicked on my flashlight, moving closer to Adrian as we advanced towards Alto, sweeping the beam along the walls, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, other than a narrow recessed area along the wall that had escaped my first cursory glance.

"What? Is something wrong?" Adrian's eyes raked around the area before darting up to mine, a look of confusion on his face. I shrugged; there didn't seem to be anything other than a few loose pebbles and the stone floor of the tunnel—hardly things that would merit the stunned look on the guardian's face.

Alto's entire body was stiff and rigid with tension—completely at odds with the soft murmur of his voice. "This is where it happened."

He didn't need to elaborate—his words evoked an icy tremor that prickled down my spine. This was the spot where my brother had lost his soul. I froze, my eyes dropped immediately to the ground, searching the dust and rubble for evidence to confirm his words—however, there was absolutely nothing there to see. It seemed…wrong…somehow—shouldn't there be something that indicated the magnitude of what had taken place there? I couldn't fathom that not even a bloodstain remained to mark the spot where my beloved brother had died.

"They were waiting in that alcove," Alto said, gesturing towards the dark recess that I'd noticed. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow, as if he were reliving the event all over again. "Three of them. Alberta said to get the others out… I thought they could handle it—they were the best we had."

I glanced back at the mouth of the cave, trying to blink away the hot tears that filled my eyes. Six feet. He had fallen six feet from safety. Six more lousy feet and Dimitri would have been with his Roza—was that what he thought as he lay there dying, taking his last breath? A sudden onslaught of emotion hit me—empathy for Roza; it twisted my heart painfully in my chest and made my tears break free. I tried to imagine what she must have felt, standing there and watching as the man she loved was attacked. Horror, of course, and helplessness, but I knew there was so much more—all I had to do was remember the way she'd looked at Dimitri's memorial. The desolate look in her eyes and the tremor in her voice as she recounted what had happened confirmed it. As she spoke, her mask had slipped away, revealing the full weight of her grief; she'd been a woman that was broken beyond all hope of repair. Dimitri wasn't the only one who'd lost his soul that night—his Roza had lost a part of hers too.

As if he knew the path my thoughts were traveling, Alto spoke, pulling my gaze his way. His eyes were bright—almost feverish looking as they met mine. "Hathaway tried to get back to him—I stopped her. Maybe if I hadn't…things would have been different."

I closed my eyes as his voice trailed off, forcing myself to take a slow, deep breath. My initial reaction was to lash out at him—to punish him for the part he'd played in what my brother had become. But I couldn't—Dimitri wouldn't want me to, but more importantly, I was finally grasping something that had completely escaped me for a very long time. It was not fair for me to blame anyone but Dimitri for what had befallen him—the moment he had agreed to enter the cave, he'd known what could happen. He had known what my grandmother had seen in vision all those years ago, but he must have decided that saving all those lives was worth risking his own.

"It still would have happened," I said softly. "He knew the risk he was taking, Guardian Alto. From the moment he set foot in this place, his fate was sealed. You…Alberta… Roza… none of you bear any responsibility for what happened to him. He knew what was at stake—it was his choice."

Adrian's arms slid around me, pulling me into a comforting hug. "He's fine now, Vik—good as new. Probably better than he was before since now he doesn't have to hide his relationship with Rose."

"I know." I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and letting the scent of him soothe my tension away. "Everything happens for a reason, right? No matter how horrible it might be."

After a moment or two, Alto cleared his throat. "We should keep moving—the others have probably already reached the chamber where most of the fighting took place."

I stepped away from Adrian, nodding as I swiped at my eyes. "Just give me one minute, please—there is something I need to do."

I dropped my bag, kneeling down beside it, rooting through the contents searching for the box of chalk I'd commandeered from the storeroom. Pulling out a piece, I whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to God for allowing Dimitri to reclaim his soul as I marked the spot where he had died with a cross and his name. I knew it would fade away in time—chalk doesn't last forever—but at least for a little while there would be evidence of what had happened here and proof of the great sacrifice my brother had made.

Adrian's hand slipped into mine as we started moving around the curve, going deeper into the tunnel; his warm, sturdy grip helped me fight my way free of the dark, depressing feelings that threated to overwhelm me. The press of his long, graceful fingers against mine dispelled the image that kept popping up in my head—one of Dimitri, fighting frantically to live.

"How much further is it?" he asked.

"Five minutes or so—maybe a little more." Alto studied the juncture in front of us, frowning as he played his light across the two tunnels before finally choosing the one on the left.

"You _do_ know where we're going, right?" Adrian asked, sarcasm coloring his words.

I squeezed his hand, shushing him. "Let him concentrate, Dusha." I could easily understand his unease at Alto's hesitancy—to be honest, I felt it too. The last thing I wanted to think about was the possibility that the guardian might take a wrong turn, getting us lost in the process. However, at the same time, it was easy for me to imagine how difficult it must be for Alto—it couldn't be an easy task, remembering every twist and turn that had been made while in the middle of battle. All we could do was give him time to think, hoping and praying for the best.

The further we went, the more I began to notice the chill in the air; not only that, but it smelled funny—faintly metallic with an underlying scent that was the strangest mixture of sour and yet at the same time, somehow sweet. I inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what it was—it was almost familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

Adrian noticed me sniffing; he did the same, immediately wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Ugh—it stinks in here. I didn't know caves reeked."

"Neither did I—this is the first time I've dared venture inside one."

Alto glanced over his shoulder at me. "Are you afraid of dark, scary places Belikova?"

I arched a brow at his snide tone of voice; obviously his momentary lapse of being remorseful had played its course—he was already back to behaving like a jerk. "Hardly. When we were younger, my grandmother had…a dream. She saw my brother dying in a cave, so my sisters and I always avoided them—we were afraid we would end up getting lost and Dimitri would try and find us. None of us wanted to be responsible for leading him to his death."

His shoulders tensed—I could tell by the look on his face that he regretted his scornful comment. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." I shrugged, dismissing it; he was a rude, arrogant man, but I could tell the apology was sincere, so there was no point in letting my irritation linger or making a big deal of it.

We lapsed into silence as we walked, only this time, instead of appreciating it, I found myself wishing that one of them would speak. The intense quiet was only broken by our footfalls, and that faint sound wasn't enough to keep the silence from pressing down on me like a weight; it was grating on my nerves, making me feel anxious—when coupled with the darkness that surrounded us, it played on my senses in a way that left me feeling adrift.

The word 'dark' is really an understatement; it is far too mild for what surrounded us. It does not do justice to the complete lack of light that you experience inside a cave. When I glanced away from the faint shine our flashlights, all I could see were the strange white images your eyes make when there is no light. It took me a few minutes to grasp the fact that if I glanced up at the ceiling or over to the side, I had to move my flashlight in the direction I wanted to see. And that's another thing—the flashlights had seemed so bright back in the in the storage room when I tested them, but here, surrounded by stone, their beams were as insubstantial as the dim glow a lightning bug makes on a warm summer night. I got the hang of it, eventually, but it felt unnatural to move my hand before I turned my head.

I kept glancing around, expecting to see something of interest—on television, caves are always full of sharp pointy rocks that hang from the ceiling or sprout up from the floor, but there was nothing to see except an endless expanse of rough looking rock. I made the mistake of mentioning it aloud—more to break the accursed silence than out of a desire for an answer. Immediately Alto perked up, launching into a lecture on the difference between a 'live' cave and a 'dead' one—we were in the latter of the two, which seemed appropriate when you considered what had taken place there.

The guardian was still rambling—he'd moved on to talking about the ecology of live caves—when Adrian groaned.

"Okay—seriously. What in the _hell_ is that smell?" Pulling his hand from mine, he covered his nose and mouth. "It's going to make me puke."

He was right. The smell that had been faint and fleeting at first, was now much, much stronger—almost overpoweringly so. It was thick and oily—like the smoke a cheap cigar makes, clinging to the inside of my nose. I tried to breathe through my mouth—immediately realizing my mistake when I gagged. Now I could practically _taste _it coating my tongue.

"An animal probably got stuck somewhere in here and couldn't find its way out. The temperature this far in stays the same pretty much year round, so it wouldn't decompose as quickly as it would out in the forest. "

It took me a minute to process what Alto meant; when I did, I gagged again. I was tasting _death. _I bent over, placing my hands against my knees as I fought against the wave of nausea that was clawing its way up my throat—deliberately taking short, shallow breaths and trying desperately not to swallow,

Oblivious to the fact I was dangerously close to throwing up, the guardian held up his hand to silence us. "Hear that?"

I didn't hear anything—not at first. I was too busy trying to conquer my body's determination to expunge the contents of my stomach.

"It's Alberta—they must have come in the back way." He started walking again, at a faster pace.

"Hey—wait up, she's sick," Adrian said, reaching over to stroke my back. "You all right?"

"I'll be fine. Just a little queasy." I forced a smile, straightening up. "We better hurry or we'll lose sight of him."

A moment later, I picked up the sound of voices, though they sounded sort of hollow and far away. He was right, it was definitely Alberta—it sounded like she and my grandmother were arguing about something, but their words were indecipherable. Alto trained his light down the tunnel; ahead of us, I could see a wall of rubble—which immediately added another worry to my ever growing list. "How sturdy is this place?"

"It will be fine—" he said dismissively, "—that happened during the fighting." He shifted his flashlight, moving it lower to illuminate a small opening near the floor. "Your grandmother and the others are on the other side—we'll have to crawl through."

I ducked down, peering through the hole; it made a big difference—suddenly, I could hear their voices much clearer than they'd been a moment before.

"Ms. Belikova, I'm sorry but you _cannot_ go wandering off without us—we only mapped out the passages we used—not the entire cave system. We have no idea where the other branches lead or what kind of hazards there might be—unstable passages… drop offs—"

"And I am telling you that I have _no choice! _There is a spirit here—one that cannot rest. You must stop talking and leave me in peace so I can find it!"

"I _will_ use force if I have to—"

"Grandmother," I called out, "please stop being difficult!"

The arguing came to an immediate halt. "Viktoria? I told you not to come here! Get out—turn around and go back the way you came. Immediately!"

I scoffed at the very thought. "Don't be ridiculous—I already saw where Dimitri was lost and I'm handling it just fine. You should have more faith in my ability to—"

I stopped mid-sentence, distracted by a sudden movement to my left—on the outskirts of my peripheral vision. Turning my head, I swung the beam of my flashlight around, playing it along the wall.

At first, I didn't see anything other than the rough stone—then the beam of my light caught some kind of mineral deposit or something. There were tiny chips of whatever it was in the rock, sparkling as the light passed over them. I was prepared to write it off as just that—either Alto or Adrian's flashlight must have caused a reflection that caught my eye; I started to turn back to the opening, but it happened again, much closer than before. This time when I focused on the wall… I spotted it.

It was a flicker of gray—as insubstantial as a wisp of smoke—undulating in the faint beam of my light, disappearing then reappearing right before my eyes. I glanced over at Adrian to see if he'd lit a clove, but he was just standing there, still covering his mouth and nose—watching me with a puzzled look on his face.

"Vik? You okay?"

I froze; the smoke had shifted, moving when I did. Now it was hovering between us—and it was _changing_ shape as I watched. It thickened and stretched, slowly growing into a tall, willowy form. Icy waves of panic hit me, setting off my body's fight or flight impulse as adrenaline surged through my veins. I didn't want to see this. Not now. Not here. Not _ever. _

"Viktoria?" Yeva's voice was closer, like she was calling through the opening. "Answer me!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, dropping the flashlight so I could press my fingers against my closed lids. White spots flickered across the inside of them, but the gesture didn't help—when I opened my eyes, the specter was still there. Only now…it had a lumpy, distorted looking _face._

I opened my mouth, but my ability to speak had vanished; in retrospect, that was probably for the best since I was on the verge of screaming—and once I started… I would never stop. This was a million times worse than the hellish visions my mind had conjured—because this was the one thing I feared most in all the world.

"Vika…what's going on? Talk to me, sweetheart."

I didn't answer him; it was strange, but even though panic was crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe, I could not pull my eyes away from the flickering will-o-wisp shape. I _wanted_ to—oh God, how I wanted to—but it was impossible to look away. It was like the time I'd accidentally rested my hand against a hot burner on the stove—my brain and reflexes had instantly reacted, demanding I jerk my hand away, but the shock I'd felt had rendered me helpless, completely unable to move. I'd stared dumbly at my hand on the burner until Mama jerked me backwards. That's how I felt again—completely unable to do anything but watch as the figure before me became more solid, its features sharpening and taking form like a photograph slowly developing, becoming clearer and more focused with every beat of my heart.

It was a girl—a beautiful, sad faced wraith, staring at me with a look of heartbreaking longing on her face. Her mouth formed words, but I couldn't hear them—all I could do was stare.

"Yeva, her aura is all over the place—" I blinked as the beam of his flashlight hit my face; I could hear him speaking, but it seemed distant and far, far away. "Jesus Vika, calm down."

Alto crouched down, staring me in the face. "Belikova…Belikova! Snap out of it!"

A word came to me, unbidden, circling round and round in my head. It was one I remembered from the songs my grandmother had sung to me—lullabies that her uncle had taught her when she was small, in a language I didn't understand. But somehow…I _knew_ what that _one_ word meant. No matter how much I wanted to, I could not deny what I saw. It came out a strained, raspy whisper, but somehow Yeva managed to hear it.

"Mulo."

_Ghost._

"What was that? What did she say?" Yeva's voice was closer, but still so far away.

The ghost moved, shifting from side to side; I watched, full of tension as it hovered in place for a moment before disappearing directly into the wall a few feet away. Despite my fear, I could not stop myself from moving—the figure was like a siren, luring me to follow. Just like the sailors who heard the mermaid's deadly song in the old tales, it was impossible for me to resist. Scooping up my flashlight, I stepped closer to the wall—I was surprised to see that there was a recessed alcove similar to the first one we'd seen back near the entrance, only this one wasn't just an indention in the wall—it angled backwards forming a narrow passage that branched off into another tunnel.

I didn't stop to consider what might happen or what could be waiting in the dark—if I paused for even a second, I knew I would lose my nerve. I just acted, trying not to think about how incredibly foolish I was being. Turning sideways, I shimmied through the opening and into the tunnel beyond. Alto shouted out for me to stop, but I did not slow my steps—in fact, I moved faster, afraid he would catch up and slow my progress. The beam of my flashlight revealed several offshoots leading to what I assumed were other tunnels, but I barely glanced at them—the only thing that mattered to me was keeping the dim, flickering figure in sight. It appeared to be waiting at the end of the tunnel—lingering at a juncture that split off into two directions. Flickering between them, she seemed almost indecisive before finally vanishing down the tunnel on the right.

I followed at a fast jog—practically running, not paying any attention to anything other than the figure that drifted a few feet in front of me. My fear was slowly dissipating—replaced by a burning need to know where the spirit was leading me and what she'd been trying to say. About ten feet in, the tunnel opened up into a small chamber that was perhaps ten feet wide and twice as long; the floor was littered with discarded items that were scattered about haphazardly—as if their owners had left in a hurry, without taking time to gather their belongings. The beam of my light swept across what looked to be a tattered sweatshirt; a few feet away was an old battered paperback and what looked to be a large wad of paper that had been tossed down by the far wall. I frowned, watching the ghost slit back and forth between the crumpled paper and the book—its movement becoming more and more erratic with each second that ticked past.

Moving to the wall, I crouched down and grabbed the crumpled up wad of paper, tucking my flashlight between my cheek and my shoulder as I tried to smooth out the wrinkles against the hard surface of the floor. It was a map of Montana—the location of Saint Vladimir's was circled in bright red; there was a small x on the far right boundary of the circle—presumably marking the cave that I was in. I glanced up at the ghost, frowning—she'd moved to hover over the book and was staring at me with an irritated look on her pale, translucent face.

I crawled over, scooping up the book and examining the cover—it was just an ordinary paperback, the kind you might pick up at an airport to pass the time while you waited for your flight. I'll admit I was confused as to what its relevance might be; it had obviously been left by some human explorer—I couldn't imagine any Strigoi reading the trashy kind of romance novel that I held in my hands. I was on the verge of setting it down when the ghost vanished, reappearing a few inches in front of my face. My reaction was instantaneous—I shrieked, jerking backwards in surprise, throwing the book at her as my ass hit the ground.

"Don't do that—" I hissed—stopping abruptly as she moved away from me, hovering over the book again; something had been dislodged when I threw it—several squares of paper were scattered across the ground. I grabbed the closest one—immediately freezing as I processed what it was I was holding.

A grainy, black and white photograph—of Alberta Petrov.

I moved to the next one, then the next—Emil. Dimitri.

The final photograph was someone I had not met, but nevertheless, I knew who it was—I'd seen him in my vision, and his resemblance to my grandmother was almost as strong as my own. Savva.

My eyes flicked across the pictures—I knew enough about photography to ascertain from the quality that they'd been taken at long range… but why?

"Is this what you wanted me to find?" I glanced up—but the ghost was in flight again, moving back down the tunnel in the direction we'd come from. I shoved the photographs in the book, cramming it in my back pocket—then grabbed up the map, scrambling to my feet, trying to fold it one handed as I ran. By the time I reached the central chamber she was halfway down the other corridor; I put on a burst of speed, trying to keep her in sight.

She wasn't waiting for me to catch up this time—she didn't slow or hover. Instead she moved almost sporadically, disappearing then reappearing father and father ahead of me—twice I lost sight of her completely. After the second time she reappeared in the distance, I didn't dare look away for even a moment—I was afraid that if I did, I might lose track of her for good. If I'd been able to glance down, I might have seen the patch of loose pebbles that were strewn along the ground in time for me to avoid them or to at least slow down—but as it was, I hit them at full speed, immediately losing my balance. My flashlight flew out of my hand as I fell, clattering against the rocky floor somewhere further down the tunnel. It flickered once, and then went out just as I slammed against the ground.

I gasped, instantaneously scrabbling forward, my fingers searching along the ground for the cool metal of its handle. It wasn't there—how far could it have bounced? A foot… maybe two or three, given how fast I'd been moving. Fighting against the overwhelming sense of dread that was threatening to choke me, I swept my hands along the floor, searching from side to side—crawling forward a few inches at a time. My breath was coming in short bursts—I was practically panting. I had to calm down before I hyperventilated—passing out in the dark was something I refused think about.

I stopped moving.

Closing my eyes—a pointless gesture, but one I made, nonetheless—I took a slow, deep breath, then another. My eyes immediately began to water as I coughed—the horrible smell seemed much stronger, something that had escaped my notice when I was running.

"Be calm," I whispered. "Find the flashlight. The battery got knocked loose—that's all. The smell doesn't matter. Focus on finding the flashlight."

I tugged the collar of my shirt up over my nose, taking another deep breath, then I began to search again, moving slower this time. A foot or so in front of me, my left hand brushed against something—and it wasn't the metal casing of the flashlight. I jerked my hand back, recoiling, straining to make my eyes see what it was, even though there was no light. When my eyes starting aching, I forced myself to move, gingerly stretching out my hand again. My fingers brushed the object—it was firm, and yet somehow, pliant, moving beneath my fingertips. Scooting closer, I moved my hand higher, trying to figure out what it might be, hesitantly poking the object before jerking my hand back.

My flashlight flicked, illuminating the tunnel for less than a minute. I gasped, scrambling backwards as fast as I could. The light went out—and stayed out—just as I felt the air shift directly in front of me.

Fingers brushed against my cheek.

That's when I started screaming.

* * *

_**A/N Not nearly as long as my usual updates, but every once in a while I write a passage that just screams 'STOP! STOP HERE! NOT ANOTHER WORD!'. That's what the last two sentences did in this chapter, lol.**_

_**Dimitri's Secret Lover asked a question in a review for Ch 74 of the VA Drabbles that I'm going to answer here… for reasons.**_

Dimitri's Secret Lover chapter 74 . Feb 21: Hmmm where did you get this idea from?

_**I tend to write a lot of drabbles and one shots that accompany my ongoing fics—sort of behind the scenes stuff—though I don't post/publish them all. In the tray beside me on my desk, I have probably 250 or more handwritten drabbles that coincide with my ongoing stories that I may or may not add to the collections—it just depends on when I get around to typing them up and how I feel about them in general. The Tasha/Evette drabble was one of those—I wrote it at the same time I wrote chapter 6 of this fic, then I lost track of it in my stacks of notes until I did a little tidying up. Anyway… to answer your question, it will eventually tie into this fic. Remember in chapter 6… Vika had a vision outside the council chambers: **_

_As the large wooden doors closed behind us I faltered, a soft sound of pain escaped me; the pressure in my head was so great I could barely see. There were horrifying things flashing through my mind—images of blood and death that couldn't be unseen. The dark haired woman's body was laid out before me, her life's blood draining away from the gaping wound at her throat; I watched as her beautiful blue eyes dulled, gaze locked on eternity. "Make it stop... please... Grandmother... help me..."_

_**Tasha will go to trial while Vika is at court. By voting the way she did—against her cousin—Evette set a chain of events in motion that can't be undone. Now…whether or not Vika's vision will play out the way it appeared the day she had it… well… you're just going to have to wait and see. ;o) **_


	20. Chapter 20: Revealment

_Dear Diary,_

_It is really quite impossible to explain the intensity of the terror I felt at that moment. Had it been just one fear that was riding me, perhaps I could have overcome it, behaving in a more rational manner—but it wasn't just one thing. I was stuck in total, inky blackness, deep inside the earth—separated from my group with no way to find them. I'd just seen my first ghost—a ghost that was able to somehow touch me, as impossible as that seemed. Those things were terrifying enough on their own, but together? They blotted out any ability to think in a logical, reasonable manner, leaving me a mindless, babbling creature—one with no way to escape the predicament I was in. To make matters even worse… I was mere inches from an odorous, decapitated corpse—one that I'd been touching with my bare hands._

I scrambled backwards, still screaming—putting as much space between myself and the body as I could. I didn't stop until my back smacked into the rough stone wall of the tunnel—but still… it wasn't far enough. The smell was choking me—it seemed like it was a million times worse now that I knew the source wasn't some animal, but rather, a _person_, like me. My mind was more than a little broken, demanding I huddle up in a ball, making myself as small a target as possible the way I'd often done when my father was in a rage, but I couldn't allow myself to give in to the urge—not until I put more distance between myself and the _thing_ that I'd discovered.

Forcing myself to move, I sidled along the wall, keeping my fingers pressed firmly against it. It was a vain attempt to avoid becoming disoriented by the blackness; I could almost feel the darkness pressing against me—an ever increasing weight that was crushing in its severity. I bit down on my lip—hard—to stop myself from screaming, trying desperately to still my racing mind enough to focus on one thing—finding my way _out_ of the tunnel and away from the nightmarish body that lay behind me. Mentally praying that I was heading towards the opening of the passageway and not deeper into the labyrinth, I kept moving, ignoring the tiny whimpers that escaped me from time to time.

Abruptly, without warning, the wall disappeared from beneath my fingertips; it immediately increased my panic—almost to the point of no return. I froze, scared to move—trying to fight back a wave of terror so strong that it made it hard for me to breathe. It took me a few minutes to calm down enough to realize the obvious—I'd simply reacted the junction between the tunnels. I took a small step back, then another; when my fingers brushed against the rock again I winced as a sharp wave of pain raced up my arm. My fingertips were scraped up and abraded from being trailed along the wall—something I hadn't noticed until my panic slowly began to recede.

Sinking down, I pressed my back against the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs—focusing on my breathing in an attempt to keep my mind from dwelling on the mess I'd gotten myself in. I was _finally_ starting to calm down when I felt the air around me move—the invisible fingers brushed against my cheek again. I flinched, burying my face in the cradle of my arms—hiding it away as a hoarse moan escaped me. I wanted to beg the specter to stop touching me, but my distress made speech completely impossible.

It didn't stop.

The unseen fingers continued to torment me; they trailed along my arms and ruffled my hair—tugging it quite painfully when I failed to respond to the gentler gestures. I curled up even more, into a tight ball on the floor of the cave, tears streaming down my cheeks as I silently prayed for it to stop. My initial assessment of the cave's mouth had been right; it _was _ hell—my own personal version of it.

My resolve to ignore the ghost finally broke; I started screaming again—curses in my native tongue spewed from my lips, eventually giving way to wordless, frustrated shrieks as it continued to pester me. I struck out, trying to swat it like a fly, but there was nothing solid for my hand to connect with—which didn't seem fair in the slightest, since it appeared to have no problem whatsoever when it came to touching me.

That's how Emil found me—curled in a ball, growling and hoarsely cursing as I swatted out at the air around me. I'm sure I must have looked quite insane—and given my mental state at the time, the assessment was pretty accurate. I have no idea how long it took him to track me down—it felt like days had passed, though it was probably no more than an hour, at most. I was so intent on what I was doing, that I didn't notice him—not until he touched my shoulder. I flinched, instinctively scrabbling sideways; for a moment, I was unable to process who it was—I thought perhaps the ghost had somehow taken physical form to better torture me.

"Miss Belikova… Viktoria…." He crouched down, peering at me, his voice full of concern; I winced—the light from his flashlight seemed as bright as the midday sun to me after having been in complete darkness for so long.

"It's alright Viktoria… I won't hurt you," he crooned softly, setting his flashlight down and rolling it towards me. "There… take it—I have another."

I stared at the flashlight for a moment, my eyes flicking in his direction as I hesitantly reached out and grabbed it—immediately, I jerked my arm back, lest he try and touch me again.

"Good girl… you see? I'm here to help you. Are you ready to go back to the others now? I'm sure your grandmother is very worried."

I shook my head, pointing to the tunnel beside me; he cursed, his hand snaking out to latch on to my wrist. "What in God's name did you do to yourself, girl?"

Now that there was light and I could see my fingers, I understood the pain I'd felt; the tips were badly lacerated from my trailing them along the jagged wall. They were oozing, and there were crusty patches of dried blood where it had run along the length of my fingers. "I had to keep contact with the wall," I whispered hoarsely. "I didn't want to get lost in the dark."

He pulled out a handkerchief, wrapping it around my fingers, then shrugged off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders. "What happened to your flashlight?"

"I lost it…. I fell… and… there's a body down there. One… without a head."

He stared at me, probably trying to gage whether or not to believe me—weighing the state of my mind. "That's impossible, Viktoria—we came back for the dead. They were all accounted for except Dimitri and—" He broke off abruptly, getting to his feet. "I want you to stay right here—"

"Don't leave me—" it came out a broken sounding whisper, but I did not care about foolish pride or seeming weak. I didn't want to be left alone again, not even for a minute. "—please!"

"I am only going to investigate this body—I promise I'll come right back."

I stared up at him, chewing on my lip—weighing the two options before me. I didn't want to see the body again—but my fear of being stranded alone with the devilish ghost outweighed everything else. I got to my feet, grimacing as pins and needles shot up and down my trembling legs. "I'm coming with you."

"I will only be a moment, there's no need for you to—"

"There is _every _ need," I said, my voice regaining a bit of strength. "You don't know what I've been through in here. I think if you leave me alone… I will completely lose my mind—now let's get this over with so I can get the hell out of this horrible cave!"

He narrowed his eyes, his expression guarded. "This is more than just a fear of being alone in the dark… isn't it? Why did you run off, Viktoria? What—"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." My voice was flat—discouraging further questions; he ignored the warning tone.

"I don't disbelieve much, little seer—try me."

"Don't call me that," I snapped, hating the reminder of my accursed gift. "I saw a fucking _ghost_—and it has been tormenting me ever since!"

His expression shifted—a look that was almost…_hopeful_… lighting up his face. "Was it one of us? A guardian?" He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight that it was on the verge of being painful. "A man—a few years older than me with dark hair and a small beard?"

I shook my head. "It was a girl… from her build… I think she was a Moroi—she was very beautiful, with long, wavy hair and a small birthmark on her cheek."

His shoulders sagged; he released my arm, averting his face—but not before I saw the flicker of disappointment that shot through his eyes. "That description… it perfectly suits a student we lost that night."

I hesitated for a moment—his distress was plain to see, and I didn't want to push him. "Who was he—the man you wanted me to see?"

"My cousin. He died here—back beside the collapsed wall." He kept his face turned away, but his voice betrayed what he was feeling. "I should have been here… watching his back, but I was stationed at the back entrance with the novices."

"Had you been beside him, you might have met the same fate. Do you think that's what he would have wanted? Do you think he would want you to harbor this guilt?"

"No—he'd tell me to stop being a sentimental fool and get to work." He took a deep breath, swiping his hand over his face. "And he would be right. Come on—stick close to me, and no running off again."

"Trust me—I wasn't planning on it," I muttered, reaching over and taking hold of the back of his shirt.

I kept my eyes trained on the ground as we moved, looking neither right or left—afraid of what I might see. As we rounded the bend, Emil murmured something in a language I did not understand, crossing himself respectfully as he swept the beam of his flashlight around the tunnel.

"There's no blood… this isn't the spot where they killed her." He sighed. "I have to get closer… do you want to wait here or—"

"I already got close to it once—it won't kill me to do it again." I shuddered, releasing my grip on him to wipe my hand on my pants. I could still subconsciously feel the disturbing way the flesh of the corpse had moved against my fingertips—it had been pliant and almost… mushy.

He moved closer, stooping down to examine the gaping stump where the head should have been; I could see the dull gleam of white bone of the spine protruding from the wound. "I'm sorry, Viktoria… we have to go further in. I need to find… well… I have to be sure of something."

"The head—you can say it. You want to find the head."

"Yes. If you want to go back and wait—"

"No."

We passed my broken flashlight—Emil scooped it up as we passed, sliding it into the small transport pack that was slung over his arm. A few feet further in, the tunnel started to narrow; when we could no longer walk side by side, he held up his hand, indicating he would lead.

I immediately fell back, raising my light above my head and shining it in front of him to help light his way as he moved around another curve—this one so close that he had to move sideways, his back and chest brushing the stone walls. "You don't think there are still Strigoi here after all this time?"

"Better to be safe than so—" His voice cut off abruptly as he disappeared from my view; a moment later, his voice beckoned me to follow. "It's all clear—opens into a chamber. I was right—it's Molly."

I scooted around the corner, grimacing as the rocks pressed painfully against my chest; thankfully the claustrophobic nearness of them lasted for less than a minute, then I was in another large open area that was nearly identical to the one I'd found the map and photos in. The only real difference was this one had a natural shelf of rock running along the back wall at shoulder height—that's where the head was located. It was sitting on the ledge, long hair streaming down over the chunk of rock it rested on—and whoever had staged the gruesome scene had left a message as well. On the wall below the gruesome tableau, a single sentence was written in Cyrillic; judging by the look of the dark brown substance, it was a safe bet it had been written in blood.

"She was a senior—one of the students we were attempting to rescue. When we couldn't locate her body we assumed she'd been turned."

"Emil… I think she was," I said, running my eyes over the sentence again. "Why else would they remove her head? Or… perhaps I should say _one_ of them turned her and the others—or their leader—didn't approve." I moved closer, sweeping my light along the wall. "Did you read it?"

"My Russian is a little rusty," he admitted. "Translate?"

"It says… _'only the strongest receive the gift'._ As I read the phrase to him, the buzz of adrenaline racing through me dispelled the last of the shock and fear I'd been feeling—enabling me to actually contemplate the meaning of the strange words.

"That makes no sense—all Strigoi have strength." He shrugged the bag off his shoulder; kneeling down, he began digging through it.

His words pushed a button, sliding everything into place. "True… but think about it—if a person is already strong… already a warrior that _knows_ how to fight, then they have an added advantage. Compare someone with brute strength to someone with that same strength _and_ the knowledge how to best use it to their advantage."

He stopped pawing through his bag, his eyes flicking up to my face. "What are you getting at?"

"Guardian Petrov and I were talking earlier… about how fewer novices were enrolling. I pointed out that Strigoi attacks on the settlements were wiping out the number of available young people who might enroll. We thought that's what the attack here was… an attempt to wipe out future guardians… but I think we were only partially right." I pulled the map and paperback out of my pocket passing them over to him.

He made a face at the book's cover. "I don't see—"

"Look inside—there are pictures. Guardian Alto told me that he thought it was safe to get the novices out that day because Alberta and Dimitri could cover the others and get them all out safely. He said they were two of the best guardians on the staff—I think the Strigoi had the same thought… only it wasn't just my brother and Petrov they were watching for."

He flipped the book open, pulling out the photographs—his eyes immediately widening as he leafed through them. " So you think… they were what? Trying to kill us specifically to make it easier on themselves?"

"No…" I pointed to the wall. "Only the strongest receive the gift isn't a message to the guardians, Emil—it was to prove a point to whoever it was in their ranks that turned that poor girl. Don't you see? They didn't want any _Moroi_ turned—they only wanted the _strongest._ I think they planned on making the best warriors at Saint Vladimir Strigoi—the fact they would get to drain the Moroi on campus was just an added benefit to the mission."

"My God…" He sank back, sitting flat on the floor, as if his legs wouldn't hold him—staring at me with an absolutely incredulous expression on his face. "You think they got Luzhkov, don't you? I thought he'd just gone off—he did that from time to time. He'd get word that Karp had been spotted and would take off, trying to find her for Mikhail—"

"Who?"

"Sonya Karp—she used to teach here. Luzhkov guarded her when they locked her up… I think he felt responsible for what she became."

I shook my head, confused. "I don't know about any of that—but Petrov said he's been missing since the battle, so it makes sense. They had his picture… he was a target—and now he's gone." I chewed at my lip, staring at the words on the wall. "I wonder… does anyone keep track of how many guardians are missing in action or who have disappeared without warning? If any of the ones who went missing around the time of the attack were highly ranked… it would support my theory."

"I doubt it—as a matter of fact, we're discouraged from discussing the ones that leave service—the council doesn't want it to become a trend. More and more are walking away, tired of the intolerance or—"

"But what if they're _not_ walking away? What if it just _looks_ like they are?"

"I don't know, Viktoria—I only know of one for certain and I can tell you Joseph didn't go MIA or just disappear. He resigned to get married to another guardian."

"Who's Joseph?" Having names that I didn't know thrown at me was incredibly frustrating, but I managed to keep from snapping at him.

"He was a guardian for two of our students—Abby and Xander Badica. While they were on campus, he served on the staff roster—that's how he met Fiona. She was a guardian on the lower campus."

I narrowed my eyes. Almost a year ago—a few months before Roza came into our lives—Saint Basil's had been abuzz with the news of Arthur Schoenberg's death. He'd been guarding Badica's. "How closely are they related to the Badica's Schoenberg was guarding?"

"Gregory Badica was their uncle. Abby and Xander were lucky—if the attack had happened a week later, they'd have been visiting him for Christmas."

"Yes… very lucky…" I murmured, turning to stare at the writing on the wall. "Emil… how good a Guardian would you say this Joseph was?"

"He was extremely good—that's why it was such a shock when he resigned."

"Mhmmm… I don't suppose you've spoken to him since he left?"

"No, I haven't. He's supposed to send me an invitation to the wedding, but it must have been—" his voice trailed off abruptly. I glanced over to find him staring at me.

"What?"

"They wanted a Christmas wedding… I assumed it was postponed because of the attack on the Badica family."

I nodded. "I would assume that since he guarded Gregory Badica's nephew and niece… he would know the schedule of the patrols and such at the family's residence?"

"Yes… but Viktoria—it makes no sense. If they wanted the strongest they'd have taken Arthur too."

"Perhaps they tried—but he wasn't a young man," I pointed out. "His heart could have given out before they completed the process." He looked like he was about to protest; I spoke quickly, cutting him off. "I am not saying your friend voluntarily turned, Emil—but if a group of Strigoi were intent on collecting the best… an excellent guardian out among the humans would be easy pickings, don't you think? Especially if he was connected to the family Arthur was guarding."

"Abby was one of the students they captured that night… we could find out where she is and ask if she recognized any of the Strigoi," he mused, his brow furrowing.

"How soon was the attack on the Badica family after he left the Academy?"

"He left in early October… so a little more than two months."

"Plenty of time for them to grab him—was his fiancée as good as he was?"

"No… not particularly. That's why we assigned her to the elementary campus—she worked with the eight and nine year olds. We don't seriously start training novices here until they are twelve—for all intents and purposes… she was little more than a baby sitter."

I tried not to let my surprise show; at Saint Basil's, our training started the moment we walked through the gates. It was less stringent than what we would face as we grew older, but even the five and six year olds were expected to participate in a daily exercise regime and basic martial arts training in several different styles.

"Oh my God…" he murmured, an expression of horror flicking across his face. "I just remembered… Joseph's brother was a guardian for the Drozdovs … and so was Arthur's son. Both of them were highly ranked. The attack happened at a banquet the family was having—Joseph could have known the location… he was extremely close to his brother."

"Are either of them missing?" I started pacing, unable to stand still.

"No… their bodies were at the scene—the missing were all Moroi."

I frowned—that didn't work with my theory at all. "It could have just been a regular attack—"

"Or they might have tried to turn them and Simon and Vince fought so much the Strigoi decided it wasn't worth the effort." He scrubbed his face with his palms, taking a shaky sounding breath.

"Joseph also would have known the weak points in the security here," I pointed out quietly. "He would know the staffs weaknesses and strengths in a fight from sparring with you all—and he would have inside knowledge of the way the campus was laid out."

"She's right—the question is… what are we going to do about it?"

The disembodied voice came from the blackness behind us, startling me so much that I shrieked as I spun around towards the tunnel; Emil immediately winced, clapping his hands over his ears as the piercing sound echoed back, bouncing off the stone walls that surrounded us.

"Jesus Belikova—calm down."

My fright immediately vanished as I processed who the familiar, sarcastic tone belonged to. Alto appeared, the beam of his flashlight catching me right in the eye. I hissed in pain as my pupils reacted to the brightness—he'd intentionally screwed up my vision. "I repeat… what are we going to do about it?"

"What do you think? Turn it over to the council—"

"Wrong move. Right now we have a distinct advantage—whoever is behind the attacks has no idea we've figured out what's happening. Once you tell people… the news will spread."

"You can't possibly think someone on the council—"

"In a situation like this, it pays to be suspicious of _everyone_, Belikova. Not to mention the fact that if word of this gets out… it will make people panic. Not just the Moroi—the guardians too. We're not accustomed to being the targets of attacks—do you really want to be responsible for starting a shit storm like this? I guarantee you that something like this.. fear of being made a monster… it will make a lot of guardians decide it's safer to get out of the line of fire. Not the ones that are actually in danger, mind you—they wouldn't abandon their duty—but the ones that _think_ they're the best when they're actually just mediocre? They'll bolt without a second thought."

He bent down, retrieving the map Emil had set aside—frowning as he examined it. A minute or two ticked by before he moved closer to us, crouching down beside Emil and beckoning me over. I watched as he traced his finger along the area between the red marks on the paper in his hands. "The fact they came in along this sector always bothered me—but I couldn't figure out why. Now I know—it meant they knew which areas we couldn't man on a regular basis because we were short staffed. That's information only an insider would have."

"As much as I'd like to add that to out proof… we can't." I gestured to the pictures. "They obviously had people watching the campus on a regular basis—those people could have easily made note of the areas you don't patrol."

"No—it's not a fixed rotation," Emil said, shaking his head. "We don't patrol the same areas at a set time—each morning Alberta posts the schedule of where our shifts will be for that day, and she changes it up every time she posts it. Some days we might patrol the same area at the same time we did the day before, then the next day that area is patrolled an hour later—it's always different."

That made no sense to me—maybe because I was still a little shaken by Alto's sudden appearance. "Why? That seems like an awfully big waste of time on her part—"

"Use your brain—when the patrol rotations and times are always fluctuating, it prevents outsiders from knowing what area will be unguarded at any given time or how long they'll be unmanned. You should know this—"

"Well I don't! In case it has escaped your notice, let me stare the obvious—_I'm not a guardian!_" I said, my voice hot with anger. "I am getting fed up with your attempts to make me feel ignorant every time I ask a question—perhaps the reason Saint Basil's turns out the best guardians is because they _encourage_ the students to have an inquisitive nature instead of stomping on it the way you do!"

Alto looked taken aback—as if _I_ were out of line. "I wasn't doing that—"

"You were! Whenever I ask a question you demean me—and I _don't_ appreciate it. How am I supposed to learn if I don't ask things?"

"Are you quite finished?"

I glared at him. "Yes—to say anything more would be a waste of breath since it falls on deaf ears!"

"Belikova… maybe if you'd get rid of that chip on your shoulder you would realize that you should have taken my outrage as a compliment instead of getting pissed off… since I actually _forgot_ you weren't a guardian."

My mouth dropped open as I stared at him—that was the last thing I expected to hear.

"I tend to forget as well. When you were in my classes, you carried yourself like a guardian." Emil shrugged, glancing over at Alto. "I think it has to do with the fact she attends Saint Basil's. I went there too—the program is very, very rigorous. The novices are more likely to handle themselves in a professional way for fear of being severely reprimanded and punished."

I shook my head, positive I must be hallucinating. I'd buckled down a lot since Dimitri's restoration and I'd matured quite a bit too—I was much more serious and less likely to be flighty—but it was hard for me to process that I had changed so much. Hearing the two men in front of me say that they saw me as something of an equal when my instructors back home still treated me like a problem child… it completely blew my mind. "I… don't know what to say—"

"Well that's a damned miracle—I was beginning to think it was impossible to shut you up," Alto muttered.

Emil groaned. "You see? That is your problem, Stan. When you say things like that… it undermines anything positive that precedes it."

The other guardian gave him a blank look. "Like what? It was an honest observation—"

"Never mind—I think you took one too many blows to the head in training. It damaged the part of your brain responsible for social skills." Emil smiled to take the sting out of his words as he began digging through his bag again. "Do you have a line on you?"

"Yes, but it won't be long enough."

"I'm aware of that, but if we connect it to mine, it should be more than adequate." Emil produced a coiled loop of cording and what looked to be some sort of metal clasp.

I watched as he attached the two items together with an intricate knot, fascinated by the deft movement of his long fingers. "What are you doing?"

"This," he said, pointing to the metal clasp," Is a carabiner. See the way it fastens? It won't come loose from the static rope. I'll attach Stan's to the other end, and it will double the length."

I frowned. "I thought it was cord—like the kind my nephew uses to practice tying knots."

He laughed. "No, this is a whole lot tougher than cord—it's polyester filaments over a nylon core. It's what climbers use—not indestructible, but strong enough to go around rock corners and bends without fraying or snapping."

"And you are doing this because?" I shot Alto a dirty look as he snorted at my question.

"We have to be able to find our way back to the body, Viktoria," Emil explained patiently, ignoring his coworker entirely. "One of us will stay here while the other leads you back to Alberta, waiting at the opening with the other end of the line. Once Alberta gets your group outside, she can call for backup to transport the body. If we had something to wrap it we could do it ourselves, but—"

"Would a tarp work? I have one in my bag you can use." I blushed at the look of astonishment on his face. "I didn't know what we would need… so I just grabbed things that seemed useful."

"Why… a tarp?"

"Guardian Petrov kept talking about how difficult it would be for Yeva to make the trip… I thought that if she had trouble or her legs started bothering her, it would be easier to transport her on a tarp than trying to carry her. Two people on each side… you know? Distributing the weight evenly."

"Dare I ask where you…obtained… these things that you grabbed?"

I didn't answer.

"She broke into the store room—though I haven't figured out how she did it," Alto offered, eyeing me.

"I did _not_ break in," I said loudly, glaring at him.

"Viktoria…" Emil's voice was soft—perhaps an attempt to get me to lower mine. "How did you get in? We need to know to make sure the novices can't do the same thing."

I stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not I should be truthful. "I dropped down from above—I climbed up into the ceiling in the room beside it and crawled across."

His lips twitched at the corners. "Alto… remind me to tell Alberta we need to make sure that the doors in that hallway are kept locked at all times."

"She'd have probably just tried to break down the door," Alto muttered, pulling off the small sack he had on his shoulder and tossing it to Emil.

"Don't be ridiculous—" I scoffed at the suggestion "—those doors are solid wood. I would have much better luck kicking through the plaster beside the doorframe."

"Would you two please stop—you are giving me a headache." Emil pulled out another loop of rope, quickly attaching it to the first one. "If I stay here… can I trust the two of you not to kill each other on the way back?"

"I still don't understand why we can't all go—"

"If the line came loose we might have a hard time finding our way back." Alto said. "I'll stay—you move faster than I do."

"Fine—I'll be back with the tarp as quick as I can. It's too bad we don't have a camera to document the scene, but it can't be helped. Poor Molly has been here far too long as it is—she deserves a proper burial as soon as possible."

He stood, offering one end of the rope to Alto; as he moved, I felt the air shift—but not in the direction he was moving. It was on my other side—fainter than it had been back at the tunnels juncture, but still noticeable, at least to me. I tensed, waiting for another pinch, but it didn't come—instead, invisible fingers gently stroked my cheek. When it happened a second time, I bit the inside of my cheek, slowly turning my head to glance in that direction; my eyes widened—the ghost was standing right beside me. She reached out, her translucent hand cupping my cheek as she gazed at me; I was frozen in place—trying not to move a muscle—then I realized the heartbreaking sorrow had vanished from her face.

She was… smiling. A beautiful, serene smile that was almost angelic—and suddenly… everything was clear to me. She hadn't meant to torment me at all—she just wanted to be at peace, and she couldn't rest… not until her body was discovered. Even as I thought it, she grew fainter before my eyes; the pressure in the air grew heavy—so heavy my ears popped.

Then she was just… gone.

"Viktoria?" Emil grabbed my elbow, snapping me out of my daze. "Are you all right?"

"Yes… sorry. I guess I spaced out for a minute." I shot him a weak smile, my eyes flicking back to the spot where Molly had been.

"Are you sure? You went pale—for a moment I thought you might faint."

"Positive—it's been a really long day and I've got a lot on my mind."

"Well that's certainly understandable." He didn't look like he bought my excuse, but he didn't press me either—which I appreciated.

I followed after him as he moved to the opening, watching shimmy into it; hesitating for a moment, I glanced over at Alto—he was leaning against the wall, his eyes averted from Molly's head. "Guardian Alto… you may be a jerk most the time… but the way you volunteered to stay behind… it was very admirable—and brave." His head jerked up, eyes full of surprise—I turned sideways, slipping into the opening before he could summon up a mean spirited response to my statement.

Emil was waiting for me where the tunnel widened, unfurling a bit of the line from the loop he'd made around his arm "Stick close, and try not to get tangled up in the rope if you can avoid it.."

I nodded, walking beside him—though I fell back when we finally neared Molly's body; I didn't want to step over her—to do so seemed disrespectful beyond belief. Emil stopped, gazing down at her with a sad expression on his face. I watched in silence as he bowed his head, his lips moving in a silent prayer, thinking about how hard it must be for the two guardians to see what had become of the lovely young girl. In all likelihood, they'd probably known her since she was a child; they'd watched her grow up at the Academy—so in a way, it was like losing a member of their family.

When he began moving again, I hurried to catch up—laying my hand on his arm to get his attention. "Emil… you should know… she's gone now."

His brow wrinkled. "What—"

"Her ghost… she's completely gone. It feels different—I can't really explain it…but now that she knows her body won't be stuck here forever… she is at peace." I struggled to find the words I needed—unsure of how to explain a feeling that I couldn't understand. "She was smiling when she vanished…the sorrow was gone."

He didn't look over at me, but I could see some of the tension ease out of his face. "Thank you. I appreciate your sharing that… I know you don't like talking about your gift."

I simply smiled, falling silent; for a time, the only sound was that of our footfalls against the floor as we moved through the dark tunnels, making our way back to the others.

"Viktoria…"

The sound of his voice breaking the silence startled me; I jerked—he chuckled softly at my reaction. "Yes sir?"

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to say that Dimitri would be very proud of the way you managed to piece everything together back there. After everything that happened to you… for you to be able to logically grasp so much that we've overlooked… it is really quite remarkable."

I smiled, pleased at the thought of making my brother proud. "You know… it's funny… but I have always hated mysteries. My sisters love them, and my nephew, he does too—he's always begging his mother to buy him those books where they give you a clue and you have to turn to this page then that one to figure it out. He's always trying to get me to read them with him… but they drive me up the wall. So it's really quite strange that I can even think my way through something like that without getting frustrated—especially since lately, every time I turn around there is a problem I have to figure out with only the barest lead to follow."

"You have a natural aptitude for it—you shouldn't waste it." He glanced over at me, studying me intently; it made me feel self-conscious—I ducked my head down, hiding my face from his view. "May I ask you something personal?"

"I suppose… though I might not answer."

"Have you considered becoming an instructor when you graduate?"

I sighed. "Guardian Petrov asked me the same thing."

"I thought she might—we had a discussion about her making you an offer today while we ate lunch. It would be nice to have another Belikov on the staff… and you are very good with the students. I told Alberta how well they responded to you."

"Because I am a novelty—they are simply interested in what I have to say because I am a visiting novice from a different school."

"No… it's more than that. You draw them in instead of just throwing facts and statistics at them. You make learning enjoyable, rather than tedious and boring." He glanced over at me, smiling. "I try to do the same thing, but they see me as an old man—"

"You're not old. Far from it." My response was automatic.

"I am to them. I am sure you feel the same way about your instructors from time to time—sitting in class, frustrated with how dull it is… you wonder if they've forgotten what it was like to be young and full of yearning for fun."

I thought about it. "You're right—that does happen… but none of my instructors employee the techniques I've seen you use. If they did, I might be more inclined to make more of an effort."

"That is precisely my point. We need teachers who engage, not ones who simply preach at the students."

"I can't do it. The women in Baia do not serve in any form—the only one who has is my grandmother… and she has very strong beliefs in the proper way things should be done."

"What do you mean?" I could hear the confusion in his voice; it made me sigh. I was getting tired of trying to explain myself to people who could not possibly understand the complexities of Yeva's mind.

"She doesn't agree with the current system. She believes that guardians should serve the way they used to… in the old days." I frowned, shaking my head—unsure if I could find the words to clarify what I meant. "Like Roza and the queen—they have a mutual respect for each other. A familial love that supersedes class or rank. Even without the bond of shadows between them, there is a connection there that can never be broken—that is the way it should be… not just blind servitude because one is dhampir and the other Moroi."

"She's right…unfortunately, I don't see things changing anytime soon. I have heard that Vasilisa Dragomir is trying to push the Council on several dhampir issues…but change like that… it takes time. It probably won't happen during my lifetime or yours."

I glanced over at him, frowning. His tone troubled me—it was blunt and matter of fact; he just accepted that his fate would be decided by the Royal Council without question—and that wasn't right. We weren't their _property_—we were living, breathing people, not livestock. "You do realize that if enough guardians joined together in a show of support for Lissa's proposals… it could make the difference between success and failure. If the Council actually _saw_ such a thing with their own eyes—that we _refuse_ to allow them to treat us as second class citizens—it might make them recognize the fact that their stubborn insistence in treating us as lesser beings has to change."

"Yes, but at what cost, Viktoria? To convince them… _really_ convince them of something like that… to make them admit that we deserve the same rights they have… it would take more than just showing up at a few council sessions. The threat of our walking away from service isn't worth anything unless we're willing to back it up with action—and if we do that… it will end up costing Moroi lives. If the guardians went on strike, Strigoi would hear about it. You don't think they would take advantage of the situation—attacking when the Moroi were at their most vulnerable? Especially in light of what we learned today…"

Silence fell between us as I mulled over his statement. I couldn't deny the truth—it was far too easy to imagine the carnage that would result if the Strigoi population learned that the Moroi were unprotected. In an eerie way, it echoed what Alberta and I had discussed about the attacks on dhampir communes. "You are right… but you have to take into account that it's already happening to _our _ people. We are so focused on protecting the Moroi that our hands are tied when it comes to defending our own."

"I wish there was an easy fix… but there isn't. I wish we could successfully do both things, but there aren't enough of us to go around. The guardian pool is already spread so thin that we don't have enough resources to protect everyone."

It was a no win situation—and an extremely depressing one. It also made me feel enormously guilty for not going into service. I'd spent my whole life learning to protect others, but my skills would just go to waste—the only use I would have for them would be if I helped Paul with his training or in the unlikely case that Strigoi ever attacked our home.

Emil glanced over at me, his brow wrinkling with concern; it made me wonder if he could somehow tell the dark path my thoughts had taken. "Is it safe to assume that if you found a charge you connected with…your grandmother wouldn't object to your serving?"

"I suppose." I wasn't really paying attention; my thoughts were churning, racing over the problem we'd discussed as well as the part I would play in them by not pulling my weight and doing my duty by accepting a charge.

"Then I think you are failing to see what is right in front of you. You'll definitely be going into service."

"Mhmmm." My response was automatic—then what he said hit home. "Wait… what did you say? Why would you think that?"

"Oh I don't know… call it a hunch. I may not have your gift, but I sense things from time to time." He chuckled, amused by my confusion—his mouth curving up in the barest hint of a smile. "Or maybe it's because of the way your Moroi Lord took off after you without thought when you were chasing Molly's ghost. That's why Stan didn't catch you—he had to give up pursuit to drag Ivashkov out of the tunnel."

I was suddenly extremely glad that we were surrounded by darkness—it helped to hide the hot flush of color that was creeping across my cheeks. "Perhaps he just didn't want to be left behind, all alone."

"Maybe… but judging by the way he was cursing Alto and trying to pull rank, my bet is that he was motivated by something else entirely. You forget… I saw the two of you after your visit to Luzhkov's cabin."

The light , teasing lilt in his voice made me blush even more; I fumbled for something to say—desperate to change the subject to something less embarrassing. "You do not seem surprised to learn that he and Johnson are one in the same…"

"Not many guardians can afford to smoke Djarum blacks, Viktoria. When he was here before, I was constantly picking up the cigarette butts he left strewn around the campus. You should really speak to him about that—littering is a disgusting habit." He smiled as he stopped walking, taking a moment to feed out more of the coiled line. "Besides… a disguise can only hide so much—even one made out of spirit. Everyone has little quirks that they do without consciously being aware of it—little tells betray them."

I frowned. If Emil could see the truth behind Guardian Johnson's mask, then Dimitri was sure to be able to do the same. My brother's observational skills were better than anyone I'd ever met. "What gave it away?"

"I suspected there was something up when we were in the car on the way to guest housing. I heard what was discussed before you got in the car—he told Alberta that he'd never been to Saint Vlad's. Yet… somehow… he knew the name of our staff physician."

"Petrov said it first—"

"No she didn't. She said the campus doctor—she didn't use Izolda's last name."

"Well… damn." I sighed. I hadn't even caught the slip—of course, my head had felt like a vice was crushing it at the time, so at least I had a good excuse. "I guess he is as horrible at being sneaky as I am."

He laughed at my grim expression. "Then you are well matched—neither of you will ever be able to fool the other."

"You don't understand—if you were able to figure it out… my brother will too."

"Dimitri is a sensible man… and deep down, I suspect he is rather sentimental as well. He'll soon enough realize he is fighting a losing battle—and if he doesn't… just remind him of the way he followed a certain young novice around campus, watching her with stars in his eyes and a wistful expression on his face."

"You knew?" Apparently, Dimitri was almost as bad at hiding things as Adrian and me.

He shrugged. "I didn't _know…_ but when a young man who always stayed to himself suddenly started to loosen up and act differently… I noticed."

Despite my irritation at my brother's attitude towards Adrian, I couldn't help but smile; it made me happy to know that other people were finally able to see the _real_ Dimitri—the one that lurked deep inside him, hiding behind his standoffish guardian persona. No matter how angry I might be at Roza or how jealous I was that she held Adrian's heart, I was a big enough person to admit that she was responsible for helping my brother come out of his shell.

"May I mention something else that I've observed?"

I glanced over at him—he was watching me with a strange sort of half smile on his face. "Certainly—your observations are proving to be a very educational experience for me."

"That expression that I mentioned seeing on your brother? The one that made it obvious he was longing for his mentee to notice him? I've seen it the past few days… on Guardian Johnson. He wears it when he's watching you."

I dropped my eyes, focusing on the ground in front of me. "It is a pretty thought… one I know it isn't true. But thank you for—"

I do not tell lies, Viktoria." He grabbed by arm, jerking me to an abrupt halt. "Especially not when I can tell that you _want_ to serve. Don't try and deny it—I can see it as clearly as the nose on your face."

"I… I'm not sure." There was a tremor in my mumble, betraying my indecision. "I _think_ I would like to… if it could be the way Yeva describes it. But I don't want to serve if it means being shackled to a Moroi I don't get along with. How can I pledge to give my life before I know who I'll be assigned to? I know myself, Emil—I know my limitations. If I don't _like_ someone, I won't be able to give them the sort of protection that is required. I won't lay down my life for someone who isn't worth the sacrifice—and I don't want to upset my family by going against their wishes on the matter."

He released my arm, his face solemn as he studied me in the darkness. "You are very wise for someone so young… but at the same time, you are foolish in your youth. I've just told you what I've observed, Viktoria. There _is_ a Royal Moroi you could guard in the old way—out of love and respect. And judging by the way your grandmother treats him… I think she would give you her blessing."

"And I told you that I know it isn't true," I snapped, angry at being pushed into discussing things I wanted to avoid. "He has told me quite plainly that he is still in love with someone _else._"

He made a dismissive noise. "He never looked at Rose the way he looks at you. He looked at her with admiration and desire… but never with devotion and wonder."

I huffed, irritated that so many people were aware of the situation between them. "You'll have to forgive me for believing that _he _knows his own heart better than _you_ do."

"Young men often think themselves in love with a beautiful girl, then later realize the truth… often times too late." His voice held a strange undercurrent—a mixture of sadness and loss that blunted the sharp edge of my anger. "When I was his age I felt the same… I lost a good woman because of my idiocy."

"If you really love someone… I believe it is never too late," I pointed out.

"For me it is—my cousin recognized what I did not and stepped in, sweeping her off her feet. Now that he is gone… it would be a disservice to his memory if I tried to take his place." Emil shrugged his shoulders and started moving again, slowly feeding out more line as he walked. "Besides… if she could get over me so quickly, then she didn't really love me. We are friends now—good friends—and for me, that is enough."

"I feel like there is a point to this that I am missing. Besides the obvious one, I mean." I followed after him, a feeling of unease prickling up inside me. His words disturbed me, though I didn't know why.

"Maybe there is… and maybe there isn't. Maybe I'm just making conversation to pass the time."

"That is a very frustrating answer."

His sudden burst of laughter was loud, echoing around us. "Men are supposed to frustrate women, Viktoria. It is the only weapon we have in our arsenal to level the playing field. Surely you can see that it's only fair, since you ladies do the same to us all the time. You say one thing when you really mean another, teasing and giggling flirtatiously all the while."

"I don't."

"You don't flirt? I find that hard to believe."

"No… I don't say one thing when I mean something else. There's no point in playing silly games—it just wastes time." I thought about it for a moment, then realized it was only partially true. "Though if the person I am talking to _wants_ that kind of discussion… you know… if we're _mutually_ teasing each other, I might do it. But I don't make a practice of it. I've been on the receiving end of being played… and it's not fun. I could never do that to a person, not even to someone I despised."

"I suppose that means the Guardian Council could never use you as a Mata Hari then."

I gave him a blank look. "A what?"

"A seductive spy, batting your eyelashes and using your feminine wiles to obtain secrets from our enemies."

I snorted. "I'm hardly the type for that. Now Roza on the other hand…" My voice trailed off at his chuckle, but I didn't share his amusement. All the talk of love and games affected me deeply; it reminded me of my brother and Roza's warnings about Adrian, A rush of overwhelming doubt swept over me—what if I was wrong, and everything he said was a lie? In that moment, more than anything, I needed his arms around me—I needed to gaze into his eyes and let what I saw there wash away the fear that gripped me, reassuring me that no matter what, I could believe his words were true.

On top of that, I couldn't help but feel that by allowing my thoughts to stray to my own problems, I was being incredibly shallow. In light of what we'd discovered, the _last_ thing I should be dwelling on was my own romantic troubles.

"I'm a horrible person," I muttered under my breath.

"Why is that?"

"I shouldn't be worrying about my situation with Adrian right now—not after finding that poor dead girl and everything we figured out. I should be focused on the problem, not—"

"Bullshit. As you pointed out, you are still a novice—this isn't your problem at all Viktoria."

"But it is! It effects all of us—"

"Yes—but right now, you aren't ready to deal with it. Not until you graduate and decide if you'll be joining us. For now, it's up to older, more experienced dhampirs who have pledged to serve."

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out the obvious—for almost a _year , _ the older, experienced guardians had overlooked several glaringly obvious leads that I'd spotted within minutes, but I let it slide. He was trying to help me, so I wasn't about to disparage his skills.

"Let me give you a piece of advice—enjoy being young while you can. Before you know it, life will shackle you down with chains that cannot be broken. While you have the chance… celebrate life."

I sighed. "As much as I would like to follow your advice… I can't. If we don't do something now, more guardians will die. I don't want another family to experience what mine did—"

"They won't."

"How can you say that? If we can't tell anyone what we found—"

"We're going to tell the people who matter—the ones that can do something with the information."

I frowned. "But Alto said—"

"Not to tell the council—and we won't. But Alberta and I _can _make calls to the guardians who might be targets. We can warn them of our suspicions and tell them to be extra vigilant. As for you… you can take all the evidence and present your theory to the one person who might be able to track down whoever is behind the attacks."

"My brother."

"No… I think in this instance, reminding Dimitri of the time he spent as a Strigoi would not be the wisest move."

I glanced over at him, not trying to hide my confusion. "But he might have information we need."

"True, but from what I've heard… he does not like talking about it, Viktoria. I think we should spare him any additional pain, don't you? If it comes right down to it and we have no other choice, then yes… by all means ask him… but for now, I think we should try alternate means first."

I knew he was right; I'd seen firsthand how the memories haunted Dimitri, but at the same time, I also knew that my brother would _ want_ to help prevent other dhampirs from the horror he had lived through. Despite what Adrian believed, at his core, my brother's nobility _always_ governed his actions; he would put the wellbeing of others over his own discomfort—it was simply his nature to do so. However, I was more than willing to spare him from revisiting the past if the information could be obtained another way.

"So… if not Dimitri… then who?"

He smiled, raising his brows. "I think you know the answer to that question. Who is the one person that is always able to obtain anything, no matter how difficult it might seem?"

I groaned. "Zmey. You want me to ask Zmey."

He nodded.

"He will consider it a debt, you know—and I already owe him more than I can hope to repay in my life."

"He won't if you tell him I'm the one who told you to turn to him."

My curiosity flared to life immediately at the enigmatic statement. "He owes you?"

Emil's smile was almost smug. "In a way. You see… fifteen years ago I transferred onto the staff at this academy at his request. He wanted family watching over his small daughter so she wouldn't be completely alone."

I stumbled—almost falling flat on my face; he reached over to steady me, but I waved him off. "You're related to _Abe_?"

"I am. We are cousins on his father's side."

I allowed my eyes to run over him, feeling like an idiot. There was definitely a familial resemblance between them—they shared the same dark hair and eyes, and the way Emil's mouth twisted up in a crooked grin was almost identical to Roza's. It was easy to imagine the pale, faded Moroi cast of Abe's skin replaced with Emil's more robust complexion— a color that brought to mind sirocco winds, hinting at lingering traces of shared Persian ancestors. "Does Roza know this?"

"Not that I am aware of—I certainly never told her, and I never treated her any differently than her peers."

For a moment—just a moment—I felt like slapping him. The words of wisdom Yeva had shared on the plane about the lonely existence Roza had experienced played through my mind, awakening my anger. Her desire for a family was a palpable thing; it was something my family had sensed almost from the moment she came into our lives. We'd embraced her as one of us, trying to fill the void within her, but it wasn't the same thing—and because of that, I couldn't hold my tongue. "You watched her suffering with her abandonment… all those years… and you did _nothing_ to ease her sorrow?"

He flinched—as if I'd followed through with my impulse to strike him; it was proof that sometimes words can wound much better than any physical blow. "I wanted to tell her, but I couldn't. Janine made Abe swear that he would stay out of her life until she graduated—if I'd made my presence known… it would have led to questions that couldn't be answered."

His dark eyes were full of pleading, but the absolution he needed wasn't mine to give. "Her mother's demands were selfish. They condemned an innocent child to _years_ of misery—and you played a part in that, Emil. I can tell you from personal experience that the wounds we receive as children _ never_ fully heal. They linger on, tormenting us until our time on earth is spent."

"Rose has always been strong—like her father," he muttered; I was unsure who he was trying to convince—himself or me.

"Even the strong suffer—I have seen the pain in Abe's eyes when he talks about what he lost. Roza is no different." I averted my gaze from his, staring into the blackness before me as a horrifying realization struck me—something he'd clearly never considered. "You said your cousin died in the battle… was he by any chance related to Abe too?"

"Yes, he was."

"Then your deception has not only caused Roza pain… it has also stolen away any chance she might have had to get to know him. She will never be able to learn more about his life or hear stories from his past. She will never be able to hug him or show him how much he means to her. Think about that. You need to tell her—before something happens and she loses that chance with you too. It is too late to erase the past… but you can be her family now. It is something she still longs for, though she tries to hide it away."

I had no way of knowing whether my words had affected him; he didn't answer—not that I expected him to. Perhaps he was thinking about Roza as a child—remembering all the birthdays and Christmases she had spent without being surrounded by family, or maybe he was imagining a future in which he owned up to his actions. I didn't know how Roza would react to such surprising news, but I was certain that in time… she would gladly accept him as kin. She wanted a family far too much to ignore the ties of blood that bound them together.

"When you are older, you will learn that sometimes you have to do the wrong things… for the right reason."

I laughed, but it was a hollow sound, holding no amusement. "I hate to break it to you, but that is a lesson I've already mastered. I have never lied to my brother before, and though you might not believe me, I swear to you it is the hardest thing I've ever done.

My stomach knotted as I imagined Dimitri's reaction when he finally learned the truth of what I'd done. I wasn't worried about his anger—though I knew he would be mad—what disturbed me the most was the knowledge of how much my deception would _ hurt _him. I squeezed my eyes closed, taking a deep breath, trying to erase the image of his eyes—full of betrayal and anguish—from my mind.

"I would say that he has no right to voice an opinion in the matter… but considering the uniqueness of the situation… I would probably be opposed as well, if I were in his place."

"Then you would be as guilty as Dimitri for judging Adrian unfairly." I responded. "He is hurt and angry by what happened— just like anyone would be—but he is not petty or vindictive. He is a much better man than that."

"Maybe that's your influence—we haven't had the opportunity to see that side of him."

"Then you are also guilty of not using your eyes to see what is right in front of you," I retorted as we rounded a bend in the tunnel.

We were close to the spot where I'd entered the maze—I could faintly hear Adrian's low, husky voice echoing off the stone as he bickered with Yeva, trying to calm her down. The sound danced along my body, making me shiver; a sharp, aching need to be near him made me hasten my steps. In that moment, I wanted to see him more than anything—even more than I wanted to be out of the cave's darkness and in the warmth of sunlight. Almost as if he could sense my thoughts, Emil fell back, letting me take the lead—then I was shimmying through the narrow crevice sideways, immediately engulfed in an embrace so strong that it stole my breath from my lungs.

But it wasn't Adrian holding me—it was Yeva.

"I tried to spare you…. I'm so, so sorry kotyonok," she whispered, pulling back to gaze up at me with her wise, dark eyes.

"I will be fine… it had to be done. She is at peace now, Grandmother," I offered, softly.

"Who's at peace?"

I turned my head towards Alberta, but Emil appeared behind me, answering before I could speak. "Molly Drozdov. Viktoria found her body in a chamber much further in."

The steadfast, formidable guardian looked stunned. "I thought they turned her—"

"We think they did—they removed her head. The tarp, Vika?" Emil moved past us to the collapsed portion of the wall, studying it intently. "Alberta… help me find a place to secure the line—I need to get back to Stan."

I stepped away from Yeva to kneel beside the bag I'd earlier abandoned, rummaging through it for the small, tightly bundled tarp. As an afterthought, I pulled out the chalk I'd taken—a safeguard in case the line broke on his way back to Alto.

"If you'll call for backup, we'll bring the body to the entrance and wait for them," Emil murmured.

"I won't be able to get a signal until we're closer to the academy. Are you sure you don't want to—"

"Oh—my phone! Emil—you can use it to take the photographs you said you needed. It's in Guardian Petrov's backpack."

"In my…" Alberta narrowed her eyes at me, frowning as I approached her. "So that's why you were so helpful."

I shrugged as I moved to retrie it from the pocket I'd stashed it in. "It has GPS… I wasn't about to be cut out of the expedition."

"Alberta… Viktoria found something… disturbing back there." Emil looked up from the line he was tying off, frowning as his eyes darted over to me. "Alto and I both agree that in light of what it is… we should wait before disclosing everything to the council."

"I see… I don't suppose you'd care to enlighten me about why you think—"

"There are several reasons—the primary one being that if word gets out… it could create mass panic. The chamber we found Molly's head in has a message written on the wall in blood… that coupled with what Viktoria found…we all agree that the Strigoi are trying to turn the best of us—"

"Why in the hell would they waste their time—"

"To make an army. An army that is already trained to fight and kill." I said, softly. "A guardian spends the first half of their life learning to be the best fighter they can be—add the strength of a Strigoi to that…." I let my voice trail off, positive she would understand the weight of what was left unspoken.

She frowned. "What was the message they left?"

"It says 'only the strongest receive the gift'. Don't you see? What happened to Dimitri wasn't some spur of the moment act." I retrieved the items I'd collected from my pocket, passing them over to her. "They were monitoring the campus… four of the staff in particular."

She flipped through the pictures; I could tell when she reached the one of her—she looked up at me, gray eyes wide as they flicked between the photograph and my face. "I don't understand—"

"They planned on taking you as well, madam."

"My God… that means…Savva… you think he's one of them now?"

I've often heard the term 'a strangled cry', but I never understood what it really meant—not until that moment. It perfectly described the sound my grandmother made as her legs gave way beneath her. As she hit the ground, the look on her face was one of heartbreaking desolation—an exact match to the one I'd seen her wear when I found her crying on the back porch a few hours after Roza had confirmed that our worst fear had come to pass.

"Grandmother!" I moved towards her—Adrian was faster.

"It's okay—we'll find him. I'll bring him back to you," he murmured quietly as he wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders—lending her his strength as he supported her in her grief. "I promise you—"

"You wouldn't have a chance, Ivashkov. As a dhampir he was lethal… as a Strigoi…" Alberta's voice was soft as she shook her head, her eyes full of remorse. "…he'll be unstoppable. A killing machine."

"So was Belikov—I saw him in action—but Lissa managed to restore him," Adrian shot back with a determined expression on his face. "Viktoria and I will find him—and when we do… I'll bring him back."

His words were a catalyst; I froze, barely able to breath as the sight flared to life—rolling through me so strongly that it wiped away everything around me as images danced through my brain. I watched as tall, frail looking woman with long hair the color of autumn leaves drove a stake into the chest of a fiercely beautiful Strigoi; the creature fell, her black hair spilling around her like a shroud as her eyes widened—astonishment wiping away the cold, deadly gleam that had lingered in their gray depths. There was a howl of rage as someone grabbed the wielder of the stake from behind, but someone jerked her away from the grasping hands. Dimitri. My brother shoved her out of the way, facing off with her attacker—his face set in a look of intense determination.

Savva. His tan skin bleached bone white, his fangs bared in a furious snarl as he blocked Dimitri's blows, countering with powerful punches of his own. Dimitri whipped his leg out in a kick that should have swept our cousin's feet from beneath him—but Savva caught it, using it to jerk my brother's body close enough to grab. His head drew back, as he prepared to strike—fangs aimed for Dimitri's throat—but at the last possible second, he stumbled, his eyes widening in shock. He released Dimitri, falling to his knees—Adrian fell with him, riding his body and letting the momentum plunge the stake he held further through the Strigoi's back, piercing my cousin's heart from behind.

"Vika? What's wrong with her?" Alberta's voice sounded hollow and far away, but the frantic sound of it helped me to focus, pulling me back into the present. I was on my back, staring up into the darkness—my body shaking from the intensity of the vision.

"Do not touch her—let her be!" Yeva's voice was weak—thick with emotion. "Let her regain her sense of self… her sense of this time and place."

I turned my head, struggling to focus; my head was pounding—but as bad as the pain was, it was less intense than what I normally felt in the wake of the sight. My eyes locked on Adrian's face—my voice full of stunned amazement as I uttered the one thing he probably never thought he would hear.

"He will do what he says… _and he will save Dimitri's life in the process._"

* * *

**_A/N _ Out of curiosity, how many of you guessed who the ghost was? She is actually a canon character, though she was only mentioned once in the series—in Shadow Kiss:**

**_She still wouldn't look at me. "Molly wasn't there either."_**

**_Molly was the Moroi who had been snacked on. She was my age, tall and beautiful. I'd seen her body in the cave, drained of blood. She had definitely been dead. There was no way she'd been injured and staggered out. Molly and Dimitri. Both their bodies gone. _**

**I don't know if anyone has noticed, but one of the things I attempt to do in my fics is to challenge myself by tackling the things in the series that were left open and unresolved. I am sure there are many people—like me—who have questions about things that were never really answered in the original books. Things like what happened to Molly? Why did the Strigoi suddenly start breaking wards and attacking Royal households and the academy after so many centuries of lurking in the shadows and 'culling the stragglers' from the herd? This chapter picked up a few of those threads, weaving them into what will be a much broader tapestry than what we were left with at the end of the final book. Future chapters will eventually cover more about spirit, and the history of the Moroi and dhampir races, among other things.**

**Hope you enjoyed it! I'll try not to be so slow with the next update, but they've switched up my mom's chemo again to a much stronger kind, and she's not handling the adjustment well. She's been in a lot of pain (the tumors have gotten bigger) so we've had a lot of dr visits etc and other real life issues to deal with, and while a smart phone is great for things like tumblr and twitter, it's not so great for updating fics. (Not to mention battling off a new muse that wants me to 'fix' the end of her story, lol. I can't say I blame her—I threw Allegiant against the wall when I finished it -.-.)**

**Xo**

**—sws**


	21. Chapter 21: Quandary

_Dear Diary,_

_Adrian's inhalation of breath was loud in the quiet aftermath that followed my statement. It was easy enough to imagine the path his thoughts traversed at hearing he would save the life of the very man who had stolen away Roza, leaving his heart battered and broken. Shock. Denial. Wonder. _

_I stared at him, not blinking—trying to ignore the tiny voice inside me that wondered what would motivate such an act of courage on his part; logically, I knew the reason didn't matter—he would save my brother's life, that was the important thing—but it did not quite the question that my emotions demanded an answer to. It was one I would never ask, but always ponder—would Adrian save Dimitri's life for Roza… or for me?_

"Swear it child—swear this is true and not some platitude to ease my suffering." Yeva's voice sounded stronger—the tremor was gone.

"I have seen it. There is a woman with him… a pale, beautiful woman with eyes like the North Sea and hair like the wings of a crow. Savva's maliy ptitsa will restore the woman… and Adrian will restore my cousin to his dhampir form." My voice sounded strange—still touched with the vague, dreamy quality that Yeva so often used when spouting prophecy; it was fitting since the words were not my own—the cryptic message came from somewhere… from something… other than me. It rang with the strength of surety and truth—a balm for my grandmothers wounded, aching soul.

Petrov made a noise—it was not quite a gasp, but I had no other name the tremulous sound that escaped her. "Sofiya. He is with Sofiya Badica."

I sat up, pressing my fingers against my temples in an attempt to ease the throbbing. The name reverberated through me, prickling along my skin. "She is involved. With all of it. I don't know how—"

"The Strigoi Rose killed in Spokane was a Badica," Emil's voice was quiet, but the words were sharp and tight. "We suspected he was one of the ones involved in the attacks on the Royal households."

Yeva's head shot up, but she remained silent.

"Isaiah Badica." Petrov said slowly, staring at my grandmother with a look of horror on her face. "You know what this means."

Yeva nodded her head.

Adrian frowned, his eyes darting between the two women. "Well how about sharing with the rest of the class, ladies?"

"The was the last person Savva saw Sofiya with before she disappeared… was Isaiah Badica." Yeva shook her head, closing her eyes. "And if the Royal council learns of the connection and figure out what it means… they will not give us a chance to restore her. They will order the guardians to hunt her down and kill her as soon as they hear the news—and my Savva will die in the process."

I frowned. "She's just another Strigoi… why would they bother?"

Her gnarled fingers closed around the cross pendant that rested against her chest. "Sofiya and Isaiah Badica swore revenge against anyone who helped cover up what happened to her. I would venture a guess that if you looked closely enough at the lineage of the households that were attacked… all of them would be closely tied to the men and women on the Royal Council and the disciplinary board of Saint Basil's—the ones who allowed Sofiya's rapists to walk free." Her gaze locked with Petrov's. "If you tell the guardian council, they will share the news with the Moroi. You will be responsible for Savva and Sofiya dying before we have a chance to give them back all that they have lost. Once restored to their former selves… they could reclaim the happiness that was stolen from them."

"But one of the attacks was on the Badica's—they wouldn't attack their own kin," I protested.

"Wouldn't they? You are thinking like a dhampir, Viktoria… not like a Strigoi. They are vengeful creatures—they stop at nothing to protect what they consider 'theirs'. Look at how Dimitri protected his Roza, even when he was beyond the capacity to feel the love they once shared. Isaiah Badica was no different—he would protect his fledgling at all costs."

"But what does that have to do with—"

"Shortly after Sofiya disappeared, when her father learned the truth of what had happened… he sent guardians out searching for her—determined to put an end to her monstrous existence, believing it was what his daughter would want. Two weeks later, there was an attack on the Prince's home—his wife and all the staff were slaughtered, and when the carnage was investigated, they found the severed heads of the men he'd sent to track Sofiya down. They left Prince Badica gravely wounded, but alive—letting him survive the massacre was an even crueler act than killing him. For the rest of his days he had to live with the knowledge that his own actions had played a part in the death of his wife and all those innocent lives."

"He never answered any questions about the attack—he claimed he couldn't remember," Alberta piped in, "he stepped down and passed the title along to a younger family member, and became a recluse, rarely leaving his estate."

I still didn't see what the story had to do with what we'd been discussing; I opened my mouth to say as much, but Yeva anticipated my action, speaking up before I could give voice to what I'd been thinking.

"If Isaiah and Sofiya killed her own mother and left her father to suffer in that way… do you really think they would have any qualms about disposing a handful of distant relatives? Especially if one of them was somehow tied to the mockery of justice she was given."

"This actually gives us a lead to follow—knowing who was on the disciplinary board at Saint Basil's during that time frame means the guardians can focus on upping the protection of anyone who is still at risk," Emil offered.

Alberta nodded. "I'll call Zykov and see if he can hunt down the information—if he can't, it should be easy enough to search the Royal Council's records and see who they appointed to the board."

"It doesn't fit in with the attack here—" I pointed out, "—or the missing guardians." I was starting to wonder if my theory had been all wrong in light of what they said.

"They might be unrelated, but my gut instinct is that they're tied together." Petrov grimaced, shaking her head. "There are too many coincidences for them to be unrelated—like the timing of the attacks and the information they would have had to obtain. And if they aren't connected…that means we have _two_ completely _separate_ groups of Strigoi banding together and staging attacks. That seems a little farfetched, given their history of sticking to the shadows."

"But if Roza killed this Isaiah, he couldn't have been involved on the attack here." I hated stating the obvious, but they all seemed to be missing the fact that a dead Strigoi couldn't have headed up the raid.

"When one Strigoi falls, another steps up to take the reins—it is what Dimitri did with Galina, is it not?" Yeva said, her voice low, filled with some emotion I could not quite grasp. "If working with whoever was behind the attack and inducting Guardians into their ranks would further his own goals, Isaiah Badica would certainly take part—and I am sure Sofiya would remain in contact with that person, since she had a vested interest in bringing down the wards here."

Alberta's eyes met my grandmother's, her expression almost mournful. "Savva. She wanted to reclaim her guardian."

"Precisely—and the fact that he has considered himself her guardian since he was a young, young child is not likely to have faded away just because they are Strigoi. He will protect her to the death, fighting against anyone who tries to harm her, no matter who they might be."

"Even against his beloved Aunt?" I asked softly. I hated the thought of putting her in the line of danger, but the fact was, my grandmother might be the one thing that could give Adrian and Dimitri the extra edge they would need if they were going to succeed—and over the last few days she had proven that age had done nothing to lessen her considerable skills. "I think perhaps seeing you might distract him just enough to give us the upper hand, grandmother. Especially if something happened that made him start to consider your age and the fact he could extend your life eternally."

Yeva arched a brow, her lips curving up in a small, pleased smile. "This is true—and I happen to be exceptional at playing the part of an old, ailing woman. Very good, Vika—I am proud of your cunning."

I nodded my head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "You have taught me well."

"So… we are all in agreement then? We will handle the situation from behind the scenes, without involving the council?" Emil addressed all of us, but his eyes were on Petrov; he reached over, resting her hand against her back. "It is not as if you could present it to them right now… you would have to disclose that we were basing our theories on the mystic visions of an old woman and a teenage girl—"

"And when they got done laughing at me, they'd remove me from my position."

I was momentarily distracted by the look on Alberta's face; her stern expression softened, replaced by a look that was one I could easily understand—one of subtle yearning. My eye's flicked downward, away from her face to Emil's hand; it was resting so low on her back that it was almost on her ass—a familiar, possessive kind of touch that I suspected conveyed far more than he realized.

"The only thing that worries me is the fact they've probably learned about the restorative power of Spirit. If so, they are sure to be disturbed—unsure if it is true, and wary enough to be cautious, maybe even enough so to go into hiding until they can be sure of the danger it represents. I have no idea how fast the news will spread—Viktoria, is it discussed much at Saint Basil's?" Emil looked over at me—his cheeks immediately flushed under the scrutiny of my gaze. He moved away from the woman beside him, but now that I'd noticed his gesture, the sparse distance between them only made their connection seem all the more obvious—their bodies automatically shifted to mirror each other's, and I realized how often they glanced at each other, discretely from the corner of their eyes.

I was lost in speculation for far longer than I thought—Yeva grabbed my arm, pulling me abruptly from my musings. "Viktoria… you were asked a question. Pay attention child!"

Her sharp command made my face heat; I forced my eyes to the floor of the cave, struggling to remember what the man had asked. "They discourage us from talking about it—I think they are afraid that if it becomes common knowledge that Strigoi can be saved, it will make us hesitate from delivering a killing blow. I know that I am certainly troubled by the thought that we could be giving them back their souls instead of condemning them to damnation."

"You're not taking into account that many of them _chose _to become Strigoi—and even if that weren't the case, we don't have the option of restoring them all. We don't have enough Spirit users to pull it off and the ones we do have aren't trained to wield a stake—in fact, I'm still rather amazed that Lissa Dragomir managed to pull it off successfully."

"We know of at least six Spirit users—" Adrian spoke up, shifting restlessly, "—if you remove Lissa from the equation and count out psycho Avery and Victor's nutty brother, that still leaves three of us that could be trained. We could form a team and—"

"No. Absolutely not. You are not going to go hunting Strigoi." I scowled at him.

"You're the one who saw me staking your cousin—"

"There is a big difference in doing it once in a controlled environment and doing it out in the field on a repeat basis, Adrian. There are too many variables—"

"I think that's his decision to make, not yours, Viktoria." Alberta's tone of voice made me tense—it held the subtle reprimand of a teacher chastising an unruly student.

"It is only natural for a guardian to look out for their charge's best interest, Guardian Petrov."

I turned to stare at my grandmother, stunned by her statement. "Yeva—"

"It is what I have seen." She shrugged, her gaze locking with mine. "I do not presume to challenge the course of fate, granddaughter, I only lean on the rudder from time to time."

"Regardless, three Spirit users are not nearly enough to restore everyone," Emil pointed out, "and you're assuming the other two would want to take part in such an endeavor."

"So we find more. We start testing for it—"

"That's already happening—all of the Academies are supposed to be re-administering the tests to any students who didn't have a clear outcome on the original elements testing. The headmistress already pulled the last ten years' worth of student files to see who was a candidate," Alberta said, shaking her head. "In all that time, only two student's didn't specialize. Lissa was one… and the other one… died more than three years ago."

Adrian tensed, shifting from one foot to the other. I glanced over at him curiously, wondering why his countenance suddenly seemed so strained; edginess that was practically radiating off of him—he was clearly ill at ease. I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice to a whisper. "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered some things I overheard when I came to Saint Vlad's the first time. People comparing Lissa and her brother—talking about how she was just as charismatic as he was… how he was a natural leader, just like she was. Some even said that if Dashkov hadn't gotten sick… that he planned on making Andre heir if he became king." He looked up, his eyes going straight to the guardians. "It was him, wasn't it? He was one too."

Petrov nodded. "If we'd known then what we know now… well… it's pretty obvious. I saw the notes from when he was tested—he had high scores across the board just like Lissa, but none stood out as more dominant. It was actually noted on the form that he hadn't specialized… but the instructor administering the test lined through it and marked him as a fire user."

"He probably compelled her… trying to hide the fact he was different." Adrian sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Shit. I can't believe Lissa never suspected—"

"Honestly, that surprises me too. In hindsight… he was a lot like you Adrian. Charming… able to talk his way out of anything."

He shrugged, his lips curving up in a wry grin. "Both of my grandmothers were Dragomirs—it must run in the bloodline."

"It does." Yeva arched a brow at him. "Obviously."

She looked entirely too smug; it made me wonder what it was that she knew but was not saying. "I do not mean to seem disrespectful towards the Queen's dead brother, but I think we are getting a little off track here. We were discussing how widely known Dimitri's restoration is—not Spirit laced bloodlines."

Emil nodded his head in agreement. "She's right. Stan is waiting on me—Viktoria, I don't suppose you happened to borrow any rope or cord from the storage room?"

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"The storage room? _Our _ storage room?" Alberta narrowed her eyes. "How in the hell—"

"She went through the ceiling," Emil murmured. "We can discuss future preventative methods to secure it later. Right now the four of you need to get moving so we can get a team down here with a stretcher."

With that, he slipped back into the tunnel, disappearing from view. Alberta was still eyeing me—probably fighting off the urge to chastise me for breaking and entering. I smiled innocently as I shouldered my duffle bag, gesturing towards the tunnel. "You are the only one who knows where we are going, Guardian Petrov… unless you would prefer I get us lost in the bowels of the earth?"

She huffed at me, shaking her head. "Fall back into rear guard—Adrian, you assist Ms. Belikova." She set off, without another word to us—but I could hear her grumbling under her breath. Her frustration at my ingenuity reminded me of Guardian Zykov, bringing a smile to my face.

The lead guardian at my Academy would be very, very pleased to hear a Saint Basil's student had outsmarted Saint Vladimir's security measures—though I knew he'd try his best not to show it. Unfortunately for him, I could read him like a book—when he looked at me, he saw my mother, which meant he couldn't hide his true feelings from _me _any better than he could from _her._

We made the trip in silence, the only sound coming from the loose pebbles that were kicked up by the movement of our feet; the only time my grandmother asked to stop was when Adrian pointed out the small memorial I'd made to my brother's sacrifice. She glanced back at me, nodding her head to show me she was pleased, then said a quick prayer of thanks for the fact he was once again among the living.

A few more feet and the darkness around us slowly began to lighten; then we were out of the cave and it was my turn to whisper a prayer of thanks. I tilted my head back, basking in the warmth of the late afternoon sunlight—taking in a deep lungful of fresh, clean air before hurrying to catch up with the others. By the time we reached the SUV Petrov had driven in, the muscles in my calves were quivering; I collapsed with relief into the back seat, letting my head drop back against the headrest while she tried to get a signal on her cell phone.

In contrast, Adrian didn't seem the slightest bit exhausted; he was practically bouncing in the passenger seat—his mind still on the discussion I'd cut short back in the cave. He turned around sideways in the seat, smiling. "So… have they retested any of the students at your Academy? Or pulled the records?"

"They did not pull the records, they have simply been retesting all the Moroi students."

He raised his brows expectantly. "And?"

"We were told that no students showed any sign of the element…." I frowned, trying to keep my unease from showing on my face. "But one of the senior Moroi has not been seen since his testing—his parents showed up that very day and pulled him out of school."

A look of confusion flickered across his face. "Why would they do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? He must have been a Spirit user—his parents were probably afraid of a repeat of the Dashkov incident. The way he tortured Lissa… it was abhorrent." Alberta said as she started the ignition.

"Actually, he happens to _be _ a Dashkov," I responded, softly.

"Even more reason—with Victor still at large, taking him out of school and keeping it a secret are the smartest things they could do. He had his own daughter turn Strigoi to help him escape when we had him in custody—I'm sure he'd have no qualms about using a distant family member as a way to stave off his illness."

In the back of my mind, something slowly shifted, clicking into place—but I couldn't grasp what it was. I leaned up, resting my chin on the back of Alberta's seat, trying to distract myself from the irritating feeling—it was like having something on the tip of your tongue, then forgetting what you'd intended to say. "How did he find out about Lissa? Roza does not really like to talk about what happened…"

"Lissa said he admitted to watching her for years… that he'd read things in old texts that tipped him off," Adrian offered, toying with his seat belt.

I frowned. Something about that didn't make sense, but like the illusive thought in my mind, whatever it was stayed just out of reach—which only served to increase my frustration. I sighed, sinking back into my seat, drumming my fingertips on the armrest—until Yeva reached over and stilled my hand.

"Stop that, you are driving me mad, child."

"Sorry… I just have a lot on my mind." I pressed my head against the window.

"Same—" Adrian turned around to look at me again. "I don't suppose you've got a notepad in that bag, do you? I need to make a list."

"Look in the glove box—there should be a couple and some pens in there," Alberta said.

"Ah—always prepared, huh Allie?" Perching his feet on the dashboard, he slumped down in his seat. "Okay… Dragomir is a given…"

"A given what?" I asked, leaning back up, peering over his shoulder.

"Family bloodline with spirit in it. And Dashkov…. Lazar—"

"No—Avery's mother is a Badica. I'm willing to bet she got it from the Badica line since Sonya Karp's mother was a Badica as well," Alberta offered

"Who is this Avery you keep talking about?" I glanced from one of them to the other, wondering if it was someone I should know.

"A Spirit user who tried to drive Lissa to suicide…. and to turn Adrian into a love slave." Alberta's tone was teasing as she said the last part, but still… I tensed.

"She compelled me into thinking I liked her," Adrian scowled, glaring down at the notepad. "Literally mind fucked me."

"I see…" I was irritated at myself for feeling a territorial surge of jealousy. "Add Zeklos to the list."

"Zeklos?" Alberta glanced over at me curiously.

"My father was a Spirit user… and he was a Zeklos."

"He got it from his mother's bloodline… not his father's," Yeva said.

"And that would be…?" Arian glanced over his shoulder at her, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"One that is already on your list, obviously. She closed her eyes, making a big show of sagging down in the seat. "I am tired. Do not bother me with frivolous questions—I have given you all the information you needed."

"But your father… what family—" I began.

"The same answer applies."

"I think I have a right to know, don't you? At least about my father."

She studied me a moment, then shrugged. "Your father's mother was a Dashkov before she married… and her grandmother was a Dragomir."

"So double whammy right there. Spirit in both bloodlines." Adrian raised his eyebrows. "No wonder you're… uh… you know."

I scowled at him.

"Anton's mother was a Dashkov as well. He never mentioned what his mother's element was, but I know for certain that his father was a Spirit user—though he passed himself off as a fire user." Yeva looked sad for a moment; I wondered if she was thinking about how different things might have turned out if my great-grandfather had approved of her and not forbidden the relationship. "I have long suspected that the Dragomir family is the root of Spirit. They have always intermarried within certain families, which would explain how it has spread to the Badicas and the Dashkovs—to non-Royals as well, for that matter. I suspect if you look far enough back in any bloodline that has a Spirit user, you will find a Dragomir somewhere in their family tree.

"Hold on—is the Anton you're talking about _Anton _ _Dragomir_? Mirceau Dragomir's youngest son?" The car swerved as Alberta looked over her shoulder, startled by the revelation. She quickly pulled over to the shoulder, turning around in her seat. "How do you know that they were Spirit users?"

"Anton was Dimitri and Viktoria's grandfather."

Petrov's gray eyes were wide with amazement as they flicked over to me. "That means Vasile Dragomir was their… what…great uncle?"

"Yes—he was a great deal older than Anton, his mother was Mirceau's first wife. If memory serves me… Vasile was in his late forties when Anton was born—in fact, Vasile's own son Andre was older than Anton."

Adrian whistled. "So… the old guy traded the first wife in for a newer model?"

Alberta shot him an exasperated look. "No—his first wife was killed in a Strigoi attack. He didn't remarry until their son was fully grown out of respect for her memory."

"Damn… and here I thought I was picking up some juicy gossip." Adrian smiled lazily as he winked at me. "Wonder what that makes us? The old coot was something like a great, great uncle twice removed to my grandmothers."

Yeva made a dismissive noise. "You are so far separated that there is no term for it. Lineal descent it what counts in such an issue, not collateral—and either way, no one keeps track past seventh cousins when it comes to Royal bloodlines. Anything past the fourth degree of consanguinity is an acceptable match."

"I do not understand this… consanguinity."

"Consanguinity is a term used in regards to relationships between people who share familial blood," Petrov said. "The fourth degree would be… third cousins, I think. Maybe second."

"So… we're related to Lissa?" I asked, amazed my grandmother hadn't thought to mention it before.

"She is your fourth cousin—but I am sure she has no idea of this. The Royals don't make a practice of keeping track of their dhampir kin."

Adrian chuckled. "Maybe the Dragomir line isn't nearly as extinct as everyone seems to think—looks like I might be honoring Aunt Tati's wishes after all… in a roundabout way."

Alberta arched a brow. "What do you mean?"

"She had this crazy idea that I should marry Lissa because our kids would have enough family blood to use the Dragomir name and rebuild the bloodline. With Vika's maternal grandfather being a Dragomir and her paternal grandmother being a Dashkov with Dragomir blood… if we have a kid, between my pedigree and hers… the little rugrat will probably be as much a Dragomir as Lissa and Jill."

"That would hardly matter—it would be a dhampir, remember?" I pointed out—though I couldn't help but feel pleased that he would think of such a thing.

"Times are changing, Viktoria… in the future the importance placed on such things will change," Yeva murmured.

I shot her a look—my eyes questioning. _What have you seen?_

She ignored it, smiling smugly as she turned to face the window. "I do not know what line Oksana has in her family tree… but I can call her and ask when we get to the Academy."

"As interesting as all this is, I don't see how it matters at the moment," Alberta sighed, turning back around and putting the car in gear. "I agreed to keep silent, but the fact of the matter remains that if there's another attack, we're going to be responsible for every life lost. That's a burden I don't particularly want on my shoulders."

"We could tell Rose and Dimitri—including them would probably be smart, all things considered," Adrian suggested, staring down at his notepad.

I frowned, shaking my head. "No. He already has enough to deal with—"

"Guarding Christian isn't exactly that difficult a job, Vik."

"That is not what she means at all," Yeva murmured, thumping the back of his seat. "We will discuss it _later_."

Petrov snorted, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "I know how to keep a secret, Ms. Belikova—I think my staying silent about your grandson's involvement with his student proves that."

"You have spent your life in service, Madam—some things are not as easily overlooked."

I tensed, not at all liking how ominous that sounded. "It doesn't matter—we're not telling Dimitri."

"He's one of the best we have—and from my understanding… he was pretty high ranking as one of them," Petrov said bluntly.

"Would you wish to have the sins that haunt your nightmares thrown in your face?" Yeva asked. "To be reminded of what you were… of what still lingers deep inside you?"

Petrov slammed on the brakes so fast I was thrown forward into the back of her seat. "Are you saying he's still—"

"Don't be a fool—he is dhampir… but what he went through… it left parts of him changed forever."

Petrov's gray eyes narrowed as she spun around—her face grim. "If there's the slightest chance he might—"

"You do not listen. You jump to conclusions—" Yeva snapped, glaring back at the Guardian, "—this is exactly what I meant. They have programed you to think in black and white!"

Adrian reached over, touching Alberta's shoulder; I felt the tickle of his magic as Spirit danced along my skin. "Allie—he goes out in the sun. He's a dhampir—I swear it. Just _listen_ and stop jumping ahead to the think the worst the way Rose does."

"As an educated woman you should have already realized the changes I mean—it is really quite obvious." My grandmother looked condescending as she stared at Petrov across the space that separated the seats. "Tell me… do you know how to ride a bicycle, Guardian Petrov?"

"I—what? What does that have to do with—"

"Can you ride a bicycle?" Yeva arched a brow.

"Yes… but I haven't been on one in years, why?"

"Nevertheless, if one were put before you right now, you would be able to ride it, though you might wobble, yes? The same principle applies."

"That makes no sense—"

"Grandmother," I reached over, laying my hand on Yeva's. "Stop—there are some things that even _you_ cannot explain." I understood what she was getting at, but there was an altogether better way of getting her point across. My eyes flicked over to Petrov, my voice stern. "Take us to the clinic. We need to talk to Olendzki—she can better explain what my grandmother means."

OLENDZKI WAS STANDING BY the reception desk when we entered, chatting with one of the members of her staff. If she was surprised by my request for an immediate consultation, she hid it well, immediately directing us down the hall to her private office. As soon as the receptionist wheeled in two extra chairs, the doctor sat down, smiling pleasantly.

"I don't suppose this is a social call…"

"It isn't. We need your expertise on a very delicate issue… one that requires complete confidentiality—"

"I assumed as much." Her gaze was curious as it moved from one face to the next—coming to rest on Adrian. "About Spirit?"

"No—about Strigoi," I said, bluntly. "I am sure that as a physician you have some opinion on the… transformation they undergo?"

"I do—most of it is hypothetical, but I did have a brief chance to examine Natalie Dashkov's body after she had been staked. I wanted to monitor it—to see if it would revert to its former state as time passed, but unfortunately I didn't have nearly enough time to perform the proper tests. I was ordered to turn the body over for burial almost immediately."

"I'm sure the council was trying to sweep the whole thing under the rug—Aunt Tatiana tried to keep it pretty hush hush." Leaning back in his chair, Adrian made a face that clearly expressed his thoughts on the issue. "She was pretty chummy with Dashkov before he went off the deep end."

"Your Aunt was actually extremely supportive of my research… most of the time. She's the reason I'm here." Olendzki's eyes flicked back to me. "But that doesn't matter. What are you wanting to know?"

"When someone is turned… physically… what would you say happens to them?"

"Besides the obvious changes like the skin, eyes and the fangs forming or elongating?" She raised her eyebrows. "Nothing—for all intents and purposes the body is stasis. Frozen in exactly the state it was before its transformation. They don't age… don't gain or lose weight—"

"And yet they grow stronger… faster—"

"Would you like to know my personal theory? I think there are significant changes that we _can't_ see physically—things that occur on a cellular level in the syncytia."

"The what?" Adrian looked lost. I didn't blame him—I had no idea what she meant either.

Olendzki chuckled. "You'll have to forgive me, Lord Ivashkov—I have a bad habit of assuming that everyone shares my interest. The largest cells in the body are the muscle cells—you do know what those are, correct?" When he nodded, she continued. "Muscle cells contain several nuclei each—multinucleated cells are called syncytia. Those little miracle workers tell the muscle cells how to act—how to band together, making the fibers that form muscles. Thanks to the syncytia, strength-training exercises—like say...lifting weights—increase the body's muscle mass and force by changing the caliber of each individual fiber by expanding themselves, rather than by multiplying the way other cells in the body do. Does that make sense?"

I nodded slowly. "Sort of like making one giant ball of yarn as opposed to making a bunch of little balls, yes?"

"Exactly. Okay—here's where it gets _really_ interesting," she smiled—obviously missing the way Adrian rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm. "For a long, long time, we thought that if a person stopped training they would not only lose the muscle mass they'd gained when they bulked up, but also the expanded caliber of the fibers—but recent tests have proved that hypothesis is completely _wrong._ The only loss is in the satellite and connective cells—the fused cells that make up the fibers remain untouched, even when there is no training or exercise of any sort ongoing. That means those cells retain the mechanisms for muscle memory—that's why a person bulks up so much faster when they start training again. The expansion to the muscle cells is permanent, even when you're inactive for a long period of time. Those cells are still working away, just waiting to be put to use again."

I glanced around—Adrian, Yeva and Petrov were staring at her with completely blank looks; it made me feel a little less ignorant for not completely getting what she was saying.

Olendzki sighed, her face scrunching up. "Hmmm… compare it to blowing up a balloon. It's hard to blow into it at first—the balloon has to reshape to hold the air, right? But if you let the air out and it shrinks, then you blow it up again, it's easier the second time around, because the balloon has already been stretched out once into the new shape. The same basic theory applies to muscles."

"Which means what? What does any of this have to do with Strigoi?" Alberta looked exasperated.

"It's pretty obvious," Adrian said in a hushed voice. "It means because of those fucked up little syn-whatsits cells…. Belikov's muscles retained the strength and speed he gained when he was turned. They remember what they learned—he's never stopped using them, he's just hidden it from everybody so they didn't jump to the wrong conclusion."

"I suspected it as soon as I heard he'd been restored." Olendzki nodded. "He probably didn't retain _all _ of the strength and speed—but enough of it to give him a definite edge. We have no way of really knowing the physiological changes that happen when a dhampir—or Moroi—are turned. By the time a specimen is procured it's already… um…"

"Been killed," I offered.

"Yes. I don't know what _makes_ a Strigoi, I only know the effect it has on the brain itself. It could be some sort of virus or—"

Yeva scoffed. "It is magic, pure and simple. Every single thing in nature is counter balanced. There is light and dark—good and evil. What restores a Strigoi to its prior state? What gives it life?"

"Spirit," Adrian said.

"So the force that invades the body transforming it into a immortal killing machine is the opposite of Spirit—its antithesis." Yeva looked at us all—waiting for us to catch on. When no one spoke up, she sighed, shaking her head. "The… how do you say… the shadows. The dark side of Spirit. It awakens the most evil, primal parts—"

"Impossible—if that was the case, Rose would have been turned once the darkness took her over," Olendzki interjected.

"Roza received the darkness through a psychic bond—not by draining someone or ingesting Strigoi blood while being drained." I frowned, letting Yeva's words circulate through my brain like a mathematic equation I needed to solve. They reminded me of something… but what?

Alberta shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I hate to say it… but the night Rose attacked the Zeklos boy… she did seem different."

"Well of course she did—we already know the queen's darkness pushed her towards instability—"

"No Izolda—I don't mean that. In all the years I've known her… I've never seen her move that fast. She was nowhere near Strigoi speed, mind you, but she was definitely faster than normal—and Castile could barely hold her and he's twice her size. It was like she was… possessed."

I glanced over at Adrian; he was doodling on the notepad he'd borrowed from Alberta. I reached over, snatching it and the pen out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"Hang on…" I whispered, jotting down the things that were poking at my brain.

_Spirit user/spirit inside + uses it = buildup of darkness/instability/insanity_

_Bond mate + takes darkness = buildup of darkness/instability/insanity_

I stared at the list, circling the words at the end of each line. There was a connection beside the obvious… something we were all missing.

"So you hypothesize that the root of Strigoism is what? Evil? That's a little farfetched, don't you think?" Olendzki's voice betrayed her amusement at the thought. "I can accept the insanity gave her an added boost of strength and speed—I saw the condition of the boys she attacked that night. But a high percentage of mental patients have similar experiences—there's nothing evil about it in the slightest."

The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. "Oh my God… it's trying to adapt them into what it needs!"

The silence in the room was deafening. I glanced up, locking eyes with the doctor. "Think about it—Strigoi are faster and stronger… sort of apex predators, yes? You yourself said that in Moroi the fangs grow longer—that makes them more lethal, doesn't it? And if my grandmother is right and the darkness does in fact awaken the most primitive parts of the brain, it all ties together. It's like it evolves the body into the best it can be, but the way it affects the mind is evolution in reverse, in a twisted sort of way—awakening the reptilian part of the brain."

She frowned. "Yes but—"

"Look… we know using Spirit produces the darkness right? And the darkness produces insanity in Moroi and dhampirs bonded to them—maybe the insanity is a way to get them to adapt. An insane Moroi is more likely to drain someone they are feeding on… but dhampirs don't feed on blood. If they're exposed to the darkness the way Roza was… they exhibit some of the symptoms, but their bodies can't actually make the change so they just lose themselves in the insanity!"

"That still makes it a biological change—not some sort of divine one. There is nothing evil about the process—it would be similar to the way rabies affects the host."

"Spirit has the ability to restore the soul—why is it so hard to believe that the darkness can put it into a state of torpor? Roza said that when Dimitri handled charmed silver as a Strigoi he seemed almost like his old self again—"

"Perhaps the silver acts as a counter agent to whatever the virus—"

"No—regular silver doesn't kill Strigoi. It has to be charmed by the four elements to get the job done. And it takes a stake infused with Spirit to restore them." Yeva crossed her arms, looking irritated. "The Christ was able to restore life—and he rose from the dead. Are you not a believer, Doctor?"

"No. I'm a scientist—I deal in facts, not myths. I _know _ where Moroi magic originates—"

"Oh? You know how it came to be? Please… do tell us," Yeva said sarcastically.

"Evolution—the Moroi brain is more developed. More advanced than—"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why the Moroi? Why not dhampirs, or humans… or even penguins, for that matter?"

"I can't answer that." Olendzki's lips compressed into a thin, irritated line.

"Fine then. We will try something else. Lord Ivashkov sometimes has visions… humans might call him a psychic. Where do they come from?" Yeva's face was expressionless, but I knew what she was leading up to; I had to fight back the urge to grab her and beg her to stop.

"That's simple—I already told you, the Moroi brain is more evolved. His element allows him to tap into a portion of his brain that lies dormant in dhampirs and humans."

"And human psychics? How could they see visions if their brain is not as evolved as Moroi?"

"I don't believe in them. They're charlatans."

"I see. And dhampirs who have the sight?"

"By the sight, I assume you mean that they give readings like that Moroi woman at court... Rhonda?" The doctor's lips twitched up in a grin. "Anyone can memorize the meaning behind a deck of cards, Ms. Belikova."

Yeva stared at her for a moment, then bowed her head, her lips moving, but no sound escaping her. I cringed, tightening my hands around the notepad, wishing I could transport myself a million miles away. She rolled her head from side to side—as if loosening a crick in her neck, then began to speak slowly, her voice sounding almost as if she was talking in her sleep.

"When you were fourteen… you had a crush on Victor Dashkov. You thought he was the most handsome man in the world—especially when he kissed your hand and called you 'his beautiful little bookworm'. You cried when his engagement was announced and vowed you would never allow yourself to be hurt by love again… do you regret that choice now, Doctor… knowing the kind of man he turned out to be?"

Olendzki gasped, her pale complexion flushing. "What is this—some sort of trick?"

"Hardly. It is proof that things beyond your scope of understanding exist." Yeva slumped back in her chair, taking a shaky breath.

"That's impossible—"

"Nothing is impossible, Madam—it is only _undiscovered._ Given enough time I daresay you could find scientific evidence that evil exists, but first you have to _believe._ The Divine exists—we are surrounded by proof of it every single day, but you are so wrapped up in the 'how' and 'why', you overlook it. Take my grandson's restoration—it is a perfect example of the Divine providing us with the ultimate gift to combat evil."

"I don't see how—"

Suddenly, I understood what my grandmother meant—the problem was, Olendzki was unaware of what we'd discovered on our excursion. "We found evidence that the Strigoi are hunting down Guardians to add to their ranks. What my grandmother is hinting at is the fact that if we were able to restore all of them… we would have a group of Guardians with enhanced speed and strength—like Dimitri has."

"We could return to the old ways—how it was before we became sheep, waiting for the wolves to pick us off one by one." Yeva's eyes were full of approval as she smiled at me. "We could hunt _them_ for a change."

The doctor's eyes widened as she processed what I'd said. "With a large number of subjects we might actually be able to learn more about the affliction as well… Through testing we could determine and isolate what it is that causes the transformation on a cellular level, we might be able to alter it… removing the negative traits and leaving only the beneficial ones."

"That's the problem with doctors—they're always teetering on the edge of becoming mad scientists and doing all kinds of screwed up experiments," Adrian muttered; Alberta choked—her face turning red as she tried not to laugh at his quip.

Olendzki pointedly ignored Adrian's sarcasm. "Speaking of tests… it might be interesting to run a few on you as well—"

"No—I do not think so." Yeva met the doctor's gaze, staring until the other woman dropped her eyes to the desk. "I am not a laboratory rat, Madam. My gift is divine—there is no science for you to discover."

"But you're an anomaly—surely you see that? Your… 'gift' as you call it indicates you can access the same part of the brain that Moroi do. Aren't you curious as to why?"

"No. I am not. What I am is lightheaded and tired, and your persistence is not helping either issue."

Immediately the doctor's brow wrinkled; she stood up, coming around the desk to lay her fingers against my grandmother's wrist. "Any pain?"

"No—perhaps my blood sugar is low. Lunch was a very long time ago."

Olendzki grabbed her stethoscope, fitting it in her ears. "I can send out for something, just let me listen to your heart first—"

"Viktoria will go—while she is there she can get the recipe Natalia promised to write down for my Olena." Her dark flicked over to me, her expression giving nothing away. "You will fetch it for me—and be sure to extend my thanks for her gracious hospitality, yes?"

I frowned, puzzled by the underlying tone in her voice; it was one not easily placed—unrecognizable to me. "Now? But—"

"You have something better to do while the doctor is examining me? Pacing perhaps, or making eyes at your kotik, wishing you were alone?"

I blushed, humiliated that she would say such a thing in the presence of others. "Yes ma'am."

"I'll come with you—" Adrian started to rise, only to be stilled by her hand.

"No… Viktoria will not worry about me if she knows you are by my side."

I opened my mouth to protest her statement—but at that moment, I realized her hand was shaking; immediately it dawned on me why I'd been volunteered—she wanted him to heal her again. Petrov had been right… the trip had taken a toll on her and she was trying to hide away her weakness from my eyes. "She's right—I'd rather you stay here in case she needs you. I'll be back before you know it."

My eyes flicked down to Yeva's hand; his gaze dropped, following mine. Immediately his eyes went slightly out of focus—he was checking her aura. As I walked away I could already feel the teasing caress of his magic. My body reacted like it was a siren's song—alluring and full of promise; it sped my pulse and warmed my skin, turning my thoughts to other things that were definitely much more intimate than the innocent healing he performed. Though the feeling was wonderful, it was also a little troubling; it was getting harder and harder to hide the way his magic affected me—if it happened in front of my brother or Roza, I feared they would be able to read my reaction far too easily.

The sun that had barely risen when we'd set out for the cave had made its journey across the sky during the hours we'd been gone. Now, it was sinking into the horizon, the shadows lengthening as darkness slowly replaced the light. The immediate area around the clinic was still quiet and devoid of activities; it wasn't until I reached the large quad that there was any sign of life. Clusters of students were scattered about—obviously taking advantage of the free time before classes began, using it to squeeze in some social time with their friends. I paid them no mind as I crossed the broad, gray flagstones—barely even noticing them until the sound of several raised voices caught my ears. After only a few days at Saint Vladimir's, I was hardly an expert on 'normal' student behavior, however I was fairly certain that the inappropriate, salacious things the boys were catcalling would be forbidden at even the most liberal of academies.

I glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—abruptly detouring towards one of the large, covered porticos that lay along the perimeter of the green. The slatted overhead awning were interwoven with different kinds of ivy—presumably to provide shade for any Moroi students that ventured outdoors while the sun was up. It was the first time I'd really noticed they were there—we didn't have a designated outdoor eating area at Saint Basil's. At my school, any students that wanted to eat outside the cafeteria made do with the benches that were scattered around the campus or settled themselves on the grass.

As I drew closer, I spotted a cluster of students gathered around one of the large outdoor tables that were situated under the awning; from their commentary, they seemed to be greatly enjoying whatever it was the girl standing on the table was doing. A moment later when her shirt came off and was tossed into the crowd, I realized _who_ it was and _exactly_ what she was doing—it was Carslile, and she was performing a _striptease_ right in front of everyone. Pushing through the mass of bodies, I reached up, grabbed her arm and roughly jerked her off the table.

"What in God's name do you think you are doing?" I hissed, jerking off my hoodie and handing it to her.

"I… I'm supposed to dance." I frowned at the vacant, faraway look in her eyes; she twisted in my grasp, breaking free as she dropped my hoodie and started to climb back up on the table.

"Oh hell no—" I snapped, jerking her back down—immediately glaring at the crowd of boys around us. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Clearly she is not in her right mind! How would you like it if that was your sister up there—"

I broke off abruptly as two things happened simultaneously; Carslile shoved me—hard—at the exact same moment I felt a sharp, stabbing pain lance through my skull.

Someone was pulling on magic—a lot of it.

It wasn't a soothing current like Adrian's, or even the skin prickling tingle that Lissa's magic invoked—it was foul and loathsome, like the feeling of serpents scales brushing against my skin. I glanced around, my eyes flicking from table to table. There—at the far corner of the portico, a blonde Moroi boy was staring at Carslile with a look of intense concentration on his face.

Latching onto the girl's arm, I tugged her down _again—_towing her after me as I made a beeline for the table. The murderous look on my face as I stormed over scattered the students seated there—all except the magics owner—who shot me a look of irritated indifference as I glared at him.

"Stop it—right now!" I snapped.

"Stop… what?" The look of feigned innocence was so contrived that my palm itched to slap it off his face.

"Stop the compulsion." I spoke slowly, drawing out each word as I tightened my grip on Carslile's arm. "I _know_ what you are, even if your instructors do not."

He tensed—a quick, fleeting movement that was almost invisible, but he still managed to hang on to his air of aloof superiority. "What I _am_ is a _Royal Moroi. _ I don't answer to _dhampirs._"

"You will answer to the Royal Council when I tell the headmistress that you're using compulsion on a fellow student," I shot back.

"A student that _agreed_ to let me do it—she wants to prove she's worthy."

"Worthy of what? Being made a laughing stock?"

"Worthy of being my bond mate, of course."

I froze, not believing my ears. "You have no idea what that entails!"

"I do—and if I'm going to give her the honor… she has to prove she's willing to do _anything_ I say. Isn't that right Stacey?" His eyes flicked to the girl beside me, his smug smile still firmly in place.

"Yes sir."

"Unfortunately… I'm still not convinced. Since our little… test… was interrupted, I suppose we'll have to find some other way for you to prove it." The Moroi glanced down at his tray, his movements almost dainty as he picked up the serrated knife he'd been using and slid it across the table. "Cut your wrists for me Stacey."

Carslile grabbed for the knife, but I knocked her hand away, scooping it up before she could. "I don't think so."

Magic slammed into my mind—thick oily tendrils that demanded I succumb. I stared at the Moroi, shocked that he would attempt to exert his will over me without the slightest hesitation.

"You know what? I think I'd rather you be my bond mate—your tits are bigger. Slit your wrists—right now."

"No."

His blue eyes narrowed with irritation as he pressed his palms against the table, leaning closer to me. I could see tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his temples as he tried to bend me to his will._ "Do it._"

Eyes locked with his, I slowly lifted my hand; it was a feign—although I could feel him hammering at my mind, it affected me no more than an irritating fly might as it buzzed about my head. His sly smile returned. "I changed my mind—slit your _throat_ instead."

I moved—faster than he could have anticipated—ramming the knife's sharpened point down into the table between his splayed fingers—missing the webbing between them by less than a fraction of an inch. "Using compulsion in such a manner is a _crime—_"

"They can't control what I do—I'll just wipe their minds. Who's going to stop me?"

"_I_ am." I did not stop to think—I simply acted. Drawing back my fist I slammed it into his nose with as much force as I could muster. The sound of the cartilage snapping was drowned out by Carslile's scream as the compulsion on her shattered. I'd knocked him out with one punch—he slumped to the ground in a heap.

Of course as fate would have it… _that's_ when the Guardians showed up.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates guys. Every once in a while I have to focus on muses other than my VA ones so I can make sure they don't stagnate—it happens from time to time, but I promise I'll always return to update eventually! I've been tied up (aka obsessed) with my Wanda Maximoff fics—she's just as loud as Rose and Vika and very demanding.**_

_**If anyone is interested in reading my MCU fics, they're all posted over on my A03 account (link is in my profile—same username). But be warned before you venture over to read them—they might not be your cup of tea. For the last fifty years a certain canon taboo pairing has been hinted at for the Maximoff Twins (one that was wonderfully explored in the Ultimates/1610 universe)—that's the one I write. ;o)**_


	22. Chapter 22: Reprehensibility

_Dear Diary,_

_The Guardians strong armed me across the campus, but I certainly refused to make it easy on them; I kicked and cursed, hurling every insult I could think of at the two men holding my arms, at one point thrashing about so violently that we tumbled to the ground in a heap. Despite my struggling, it was an effort in futility; they managed to get me inside one of the buildings we had not toured, dragging me into a small, dimly lit room. I was shoved forcefully in a chair—they told me to 'keep quiet', then they left, locking the door behind them._

Immediately I sprang up, crossing the room to beat on the door—screaming for them to let me out, but if they were still outside they chose to ignore me. I raged—screaming until I was hoarse and my throat was aching; when my voice finally failed me, I turned my attention to smashing the chair against the door in an attempt to get free. It was no use—the door was solid and the chair was far too flimsy. Still, I did not give up—my eyes flicked around the room, assessing my predicament; the ceiling was too high for me to use as an escape route, and there were no windows—the only door being the one that stubbornly refused to yield.

I sank back down in the misshapen chair, scowling as a metal sliver from the twisted frame sliced open my palm—wishing that I'd been a little less thorough in trying to batter my way out. There was a clock on the far wall, but I tried not to watch it—instead, I glared at the door, waiting for the Guardians to return. I had no doubt about why I was being detained—using physical violence against a Royal Moroi is one of those things that is frowned on at every single Academy around the globe.

The problem with sitting in complete silence for an extended period is that eventually… it starts to grate on your nerves; you begin to fret over whatever it is you've done, dreaming up the worst possible scenarios for the predicament you've managed to land yourself in. I think, perhaps, that is why so many disciplinarians sequester students alone when they've done something wrong—the anticipation of the outcome is often worse than the punishment itself. As I sat there stewing, I started to wonder what they might have planned for me; had I been at Saint Basil's, I would be protected by my status as a student; I would receive detention, and perhaps some compulsory form of community service—assisting the Guardians or maintenance crew with one of the many menial tasks that they are required to perform. But at Saint Vladimir's, I was a visitor—an adult not affiliated with the school—who had attacked one of their students. The fact I had been defending another student would not matter—not when I'd struck a Royal Moroi. Shoving aside my dark, disturbing thoughts, I tried to focus on the fact that I was in the states at the request of the Moroi Queen; as her visitor, there had to be some sort of immunity that protected me—at least… I hoped so.

Another half hour passed; I began to pace, wondering exactly how long they planned to keep me locked up without access to a bathroom. Thirty minutes later I banged on the door again, calling out for a bottle of water—only to have my request ignored. As the two hour mark drew near I heard loud voices in the corridor; my lips curved up in a wry smile—Yeva had _finally _arrived.

I could hear the key turning in the lock—the door jerked open and a Guardian entered, grabbing my arm and tugging me towards the door.

"You have ten seconds to remove your hand from my granddaughter," Yeva said softly, "otherwise I will find the nearest telephone and get her brother Dimitri Belikov on the line. I am sure he would like to hear how you are manhandling his baby sister… he would probably insist on flying right down and dealing with your impudence in person!"

The man released my arm as if he'd been burned, his face turning red. "Sorry ma'am… but she fought like a hellcat before—almost broke Blaylock's nose. Only reason she's not in one of the holding cells is out of respect to Dimitri."

"None of that is my concern—I will leave it up to Guardian Petrov to deal with your incompetence," Yeva snapped. "Come Viktoria—they are waiting for us in the administration building." She reached over, taking my arm—making a big show of leaning against me, as if she were far too feeble to make it on her own. "I did not come to this accursed place to be marched all over God's creation like a Novice in training."

"I can call for a golf cart if it's too far for you, Ma'am—"

"I think not—I will not have rumors spread that Yeva Belikova was too feeble to walk across Saint Vladimir's campus," she snapped, scowling at him. "You are impudent to an old woman—your mother would be ashamed."

The Guardian frowned. "I didn't mean it disrespectfully."

Yeva made a dismissive sound, turning her attention to me. "Why is your eye swollen?"

"He punched me." I muttered, scowling.

"You punched me first—"

"As well she should have! Manhandling a young lady is a disgrace!" She shook her cane at him—he sidestepped, eyeing her warily.

I fell silent as we approached the exit, my gaze darting between the Guardians on either side of us—monitoring how much of a berth they gave us to better ascertain how much privacy Yeva and I had. Their hearing was as enhanced as mine—I didn't want them overhearing what I had to say. Once we were outside, they shifted formation—one moving in front of us while his partner fell back to the rear.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," I murmured, keeping my voice low, just in case they'd been instructed to eavesdrop on anything we might say.

"It took a while to find out what happened—even longer to determine where you were being detained," she said quietly before raising her voice, glaring at the man in front of us. "Guardian Petrov is _very_ upset that no one saw fit to inform her of the situation."

He glanced over his shoulder at us—a jaw in his muscle twitched, betraying his unease. "We followed standard protocol."

"I see—I take it you have had quite a few visiting female Novices that were forced to protect themselves from Moroi boys here in the past?" Yeva asked, arching a brow.

"No—of course not!"

"Then how, pray tell, is there a _'standard protocol' _for the situation, young man?"

Cheeks flaring, he snapped his head back around, ignoring her question.

"How much trouble am I in?" I whispered, ducking my head down closer to Yeva's ear. "Are they going to throw me in jail?"

"Pfttt—none of that! Remember who you are, Viktoria Aleksandra—remember the blood that flows through your veins. The strength of the Motherland is behind you—you do not tremble before these people, and you do not acknowledge their authority over your fate."

Her sharp words dissolved the fear inside of me—she was right, my question was that of an ignorant child, terrified of punishment. The administrators of Saint Vladimir's had no authority to hold me—no right to detain me for protecting myself and an innocent girl from harm. Glancing down at my grandmother, I attempted to mimic her regal bearing—emulating the silent strength and authority that she radiated. As I stood up straighter, her grip on my arm tightened—a silent show of approval for my reaction; the gesture drew my attention to her hand—I suddenly remembered how it had been trembling the last time I'd seen her.

Immediately, my worry sprang up again—only this time it wasn't for myself, it was for Adrian. How much had healing her cost him? "Where is Adrian? Is he—"

"Do not fret about our sly, wily cat, granddaughter—he is attending to things that need to be done," she murmured. "Though he did throw quite a fit when you disappeared—"

"They just grabbed me," I muttered, scowling. "Drug me across campus like I was some kind of criminal—"

"You _are_ a criminal—you attacked a Royal Moroi," the Guardian behind us said harshly.

"A Royal who was attempting to compel a dhampir girl to slit her wrists," I shot back. "Would you have just stood by and watched her bleed out without interceding because he has a worthless title at the front of his name?"

He grunted in response; I scowled as his partner veered off the path, leading us towards a small, secluded side door. We traversed the long, empty corridor in silence; when it eventually merged into a larger hallway that contained a set of glass doors, I realized we'd come in through some sort of private back entrance.

I couldn't stop myself from glancing around curiously as we entered the plush waiting area; there was a pretty red haired Moroi manning the reception desk—she looked up, her eyes flicking from the Guardians to me as she spoke.

"You can go right in—they're waiting."

A hand grabbed my elbow, attempting to steer me down the hallway to the left of the woman's desk; I jerked free, arching a disdainful brow as the Guardian flinched back. "Don't touch me again unless you want a second black eye."

"You may look like your brother, but you sure as hell don't act like him," he muttered, scowling as I stalked down the hall.

"You might be surprised—my brother can be very abrupt when need be," I shot back—he moved past me to open the large door at the end of the hallway; Alberta Petrov's outraged voice carried out from the dim interior of the room.

"You had no right to have her detained—"

"I had _every_ right! She _attacked_ a Royal Moroi! From the moment that girl set foot on this campus she's done nothing but cause trouble! Brawling with the staff, disrupting classes… convincing you to traipse off on some wild goose chase today—"

"A wild goose chase that located the body of a missing Mori student," I said coldly, glaring at the woman behind the desk. " A body that never would have been found if it were not for me. I think it is a safe assumption that her parents will be very glad I visited this campus—now they can lay their child to rest properly."

"Silence!" She glared right back at me, pointing to a pair of chairs that sat facing her desk. "I am the person in charge here—not you, Novice Belikova. I have no idea why I ever agreed to allow this visit—"

"I'm sure the promise of a sizeable donation from Abe Mazur had something to do with it," I snapped, leading Yeva to the closest chair. I sank down in the one beside it, staring at the Academy's headmistress, trying to control my temper.

"Stop interrupting me—I don't know how they handle things at Saint Basil's, but at this Academy we do not tolerate impudence!"

"No—you just sit by and allow the Moroi boys to use compulsion on dhampir girls—tell me, how many Novices have you shipped off in secret to protect Saint Vladimir's sterling reputation from being tarnished, Madam?"

"I said be quiet!" She glared at me, a muscle in her cheek twitching. "Clearly you don't understand how serious this situation is, Miss Belikova—"

"No— _you_ do not understand—I am not a student on your campus, or even a resident of this country. I am a citizen of the Russian Federation, and I _do not_ answer to you, Madam! You have no authority over me—the only person on this continent who does is Vasilisa Dragomir as the sovereign of the Moroi!" I snapped, leaning forward in my chair.

It took every ounce of control I could muster not to shout it. Petrov seemed to sense that I was dancing on the razor's edge—perhaps from dealing with Roza's hot headed temper for so many years; she moved to stand beside my chair, dropping her hand to my shoulder. I glanced up at her—she gave me a pointed look, tightening her grip.

"Your status as a foreigner doesn't excuse you from attacking a Royal—"

"Who was breaking Moroi law by using compulsion on a fellow student! He tried to use it on me—to make me slit my own throat!"

"Preposterous—I have statements here from _twelve_ students who witnessed the altercation. They all say the same thing—Lord Voda was minding his own business eating lunch when you attacked him without provocation." She brushed her fingertips along the folder sitting in front of her, as if it was all the evidence she would need to lock me up and throw away the key.

"Well he certainly wouldn't _announce _that he was going to use compulsion to make Novice Carslile perform a striptease before he did it, now would he?" I shot back sarcastically, leaning back in my chair. "I think you are overlooking the obvious—I do not know this boy. What reason would I have for confronting him if he had just been sitting there eating?"

"At least you admit to using physical violence—"

"You're damned right I do! I protected that girl from—"

"One of the statements is from Novice Carslile, Miss Belikova—her version of what took place matches the others. She said…" clearing her throat, she opened the folder—dramatically adjusting the spectacles that were perched on the tip of her beaky nose " Ah… here it is… she said, and I quote, _'she just went crazy. One minute she was talking to me about training, then the next she was charging across the quad. I didn't know what to do—it's like she was possessed…'_." Giving me a smug look, she closed the folder, steepling her fingers atop it. "That sounds rather cut and dried to me—an unprovoked attack."

"She is lying. I don't know why… maybe he compelled her to cover for him."

"Come now Miss Belikova. One student… maybe, but compelling twelve? There's no way—"

"Oh yes there is—he's a Spirit user." I said.

"No—his element to call is Water. As a matter of fact, he showed almost no aptitude for any of the other elements—and he scored extremely low when we tested his compulsion abilities. I checked his file before you arrived."

"I believe Andre Dragomir's file said he was a fire user, and it was _wrong._ He may be passing as a Water user, but I am telling you his element is _Spirit_, and if you do not stop him, he will end up having Novice Carslile kill herself as a part of some sick game."

"That is slander, young lady. Daniel Voda is a well-adjusted student who is extremely popular with his peers. Why would he—"

"Because he happens to be a borderline sociopath… one with high level narcissistic tendencies, Ellen." The calm, matter of fact voice came from behind me—I turned my head, glancing at the Moroi woman who'd joined us. She smiled as her gaze met mine, stepping forward and extending her hand. "Hello… I'm Deirdre Szendrey, the counselor here."

"Viktoria Belikova… this is my grandmother, Yeva Belikova."

The headmistress watched her shake hands with my grandmother, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "That's your professional opinion? After just _one _ session?"

"I didn't even need a full session—it only took about ten minutes to get him to drop his guard. Sociopaths can't resist flattery—if enough is used and you intermingle leading questions with it, they usually start to brag… which is exactly what Lord Voda did." Deirdre nodded her head in my direction. "Miss Belikova is absolutely right—eventually, Daniel would have would have taken the final step and convinced Stacey Carslile to end her own life. Whether or not he would have actually brought her back remains to be seen, thought I highly doubt it. I suspect it would be his way of solving a rather serious problem, since Stacey happens to be pregnant."

"What did you just say?" The expression of shock on the headmistress' face was almost comical.

"Her story has changed quite a bit since Lord Ivashkov offered his assistance and compelled her to… how did he put it… _'tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the ever loving truth'_."

"Lord Ivash—_Adrian_ Ivashkov is here? On campus?"

"Yes—and we owe him a thank you, Ellen. His abilities are quite amazing—before he instructed her to tell the truth, he stared at her for a few minutes, then told her that she was in control of her own mind… that she was completely free to tell us exactly what was going on. It was like a dam burst—Daniel apparently put mental blocks in place that prohibited her from speaking about what he'd been doing to her."

"And that is?" Alberta asked, releasing her grip on my arm.

Deirdre leaned against the corner of the headmistresses massive desk, frowning. "He's been using compulsion to force her to be intimate with him for quite some time; additionally, he's been feeding off her—biting her in areas that couldn't be seen. This morning she told him she suspected she was pregnant—he tried to wipe her mind… and… well… you know the rest."

"I highly doubt it," I snapped, ignoring the way Petrov grabbed my shoulder again—squeezing it as if warning me to hold my tongue. "I for one would be interested to know how many other underage girls on this campus he has raped."

"Miss Belikova—right now, all we have is the word of one student against another. For all we know their liaison could have been consensual and Novice Carslile is simply concocting this story in hopes of covering up her wanton behavior—"

"She was compelled to be completely truthful, Ellen—you and I both know that Moroi compulsion is almost impossible to break, and a Spirit users is even stronger. We're lucky Lord Ivashkov is more experienced than Daniel, otherwise we might never have learned the truth. For him to be able to do it so quickly and effectively… he must be extremely powerful—we need to find a way of properly gauging Spirits levels, the way we do the other elements." The Moroi woman perched herself on the edge of the desk—seeming completely oblivious to the dark look Kirova shot her. "The likelihood of Stacey being able to override Ivashkov's compulsion to make up a story like this is slim to none… and Izolda confirms that the girl _is_ pregnant. When Daniel came to, she caught him trying to sneak into the room where Carslile was resting—I think he planned to finish her off before we could learn the truth."

"I trust this means my granddaughter is cleared from those… what was it you said… _slanderous_ accusations?" Yeva asked softly, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the office. I tensed—she was an expert at masking her emotions, but I recognized the underlying tone of anger in her seemingly innocent question.

Kirova compressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head, tapping her fingers on the folder again; the urge to grab it out of her hand and rip it to shreds was almost too strong to ignore. "I'm afraid not—as I said, right now it's just the word of _one_ student. Don't forget, eleven other witnesses support Lord Voda's statement."

"They recanted," Deidre said softly.

"Wha—all eleven of them?" The headmistress looked stunned.

"Yes—this isn't a one-time thing, Ellen. He's been using Spirit on his classmates for month—after Lord Ivashkov broke the compulsion Daniel had placed on them, two of the Moroi girls broke down… they have stories similar to Carslile's. We can just be thankful neither of them wound up pregnant."

"Yet." Yeva shook her head, frowning. "Has it not occurred to you that there are probably more? My granddaughter is right—you have no way of knowing if there are more girls he has abused like this. He has obviously been using this Academy as his own personal bordello right underneath your noses."

The headmistress bristled. "I can assure you—"

"Oh, I am sure you can—" Yeva snorted disdainfully "—tell me, what will happen to Novice Carslile now?"

"That's really none of your business—"

"I think it is, since the young man in question tried to use the same magic on my granddaughter—a foreign national who is visiting this campus. The fact you detained Viktoria for protecting herself when he tried to use Moroi magic to molest her _makes_ it my business. It is enough to make me wonder if you were trying to cover the whole thing up—it is almost as if you already had some inkling of what this Royal was doing, Madam."

Kirova stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "Novice Carslile will be sent somewhere more suitable for an expectant mother—"

"Are you kidding me?" I sputtered, incredulous at the woman's absolute gall. "She is not at fault here—you can't send her away! She is the _victim!_ She deserves to graduate with her class, not to be punished or sent away like she's guilty of—"

"If she's pregnant she can't continue training, and she can hardly take the trials in her condition. We have to think about what's best for her _and_ the child." Kirova shot back. "Not to mention I _cannot_ have a pregnant teenager on this campus!"

"Ellen, surely there's a better alternative," Deirdre said, sliding off the corner of the desk and smoothing her skirt down; her voice was low and soothing, trying to calm the tension that filled the room. "She's one of the best in her class—"

"Deirdre is right," Alberta nodded. "And she's interested in becoming an instructor as well—we _can't_ throw that away."

"Oh sure she can—from what I remember hearing, she was prepared to ship Rose off to Timbuktu when Belikov found them. Isn't that right, Ellen?"

Adrian's deep voice jerked my head around—he was leaning against the door frame, smirking. The red haired Moroi receptionist stood beside him, ringing her hands together and looking frazzled. "I'm sorry, Headmistress… I told him you couldn't be disturbed but he just barged right past me—"

"I told you… I'm above the rules. Just ask Ellen—"

"That's Headmistress Kirova to you," she said sharply. "What I'd like to know is exactly what you're doing here—"

"He's working on a project for the Queen," Alberta cut in smoothly. "As you know, when she was a student here, they found several books referencing their element—he's compiling a dossier of sorts to present to the Council. Mr. Mazur mentioned it when he called about Novice Belikova visiting—he asked if I could ship the books to court. I told him they couldn't leave the campus and suggested Lord Ivashkov tag along with the Belikovas so he could make copies of what he needed."

"Without getting my approval?"

"As the Lead Guardian on this campus, it is within my rights to authorize a visit from an emissary of the Queen—I _am_ the one responsible for their safety while on campus." Alberta's jaw tensed—obviously she wasn't happy with the headmistress' attitude. "If you would like to discuss it at a later time, we can—but right now we're getting sidetracked from the situation with Novice Carslile. There has to be something we can do—"

Kirova threw up her hands in an overly dramatic way. "Then by all means tell me what it is, Alberta—provided it solves the problem without causing an even bigger smear on this Academy! I've dedicated my life to this institution, keeping it scandal free until the Dashkov incident! I refuse to sit by and watch it be drug through the mud over something like this—" The buzz of the intercom cut her tirade short; she transferred her glare from Petrov to the telephone sitting on her desk. "I told you no calls!"

"Yes ma'am, but—"

"There is no _'but'_—I said _no calls!_"

"It's the Queen, Ma'am! She's insisting on being conferenced in on the speaker!"

The old woman went a shade paler; closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose, then reached over, punching the flashing button on her phone. "I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, your Majesty—"

"This is hardly the time for pleasantries, Headmistress Kirova, considering that I was just woken from a sound sleep by rather distressing news." Lissa's voice was more formal than I'd ever heard it—laced with a cutting sharpness that clearly expressed her displeasure. "I understand you have a situation there involving a Spirit user abusing their element—is that correct?"

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye, pulling my attention away from the headmistress; Adrian moved further into the room—he leaned on the back of Yeva's chair, looking thoroughly amused at the unexpected turn the meeting had taken. As our gazes met, I arched a brow quizzically—he shot me an innocent smile, making a show of studying his fingernails.

"That is debatable—we've only just become aware there _might_ be a problem. I can assure you we're investigating the claim and—"

"The 'investigating' will take place here, at Court. I've dispatched a team of Guardians to collect both students—they will be there in a few hours. People are already uneasy about Spirit—we can't have incidents like this being swept under the rug."

"It hasn't been established for certain that Lord Voda did anything wrong, your Majesty—for all we know the information Lord Ivashkov obtained from the girl is flawed." Kirova's eyes darted over to Adrian, her frown deepening.

"Lord Ivash—Adrian is there?"

I winced—not at the astonishment in Lissa's voice, rather at the fact that now, Dimitri and Roza would learn he'd been at Saint Vladimir's while I was there. Yeva reached over, taking my hand, squeezing it tightly—silently reminding me I had her support.

"He is—I was under the impression he was working on a project for you… Guardian Petrov said something about the research into Spirit the two of you did when you were a student here?"

The excuse Alberta had provided for his sudden appearance had sounded plausible, but now it was about to be exposed for what it was; I shifted restlessly in my seat, sending up a silent prayer that things wouldn't get too messy—the last thing I wanted was for Petrov to get herself into hot water for helping us.

"Oh… of course. It must have slipped my mind—I'm sure you realize I do have more pressing things to deal with." Her tone was almost defensive, as if Kirova had questioned her competence. "Regardless, I was told that the Voda boy also attempted to use compulsion on Viktoria Belikova—are you saying that information is incorrect?"

The Moroi woman's expression was less than friendly as her eyes moved over to me; her gaze was heavy, and cold—as if she lay the blame for everything that was happening solely at my feet. "I cannot say for certain—she _claims _ he did."

"Claims… I certainly hope you aren't implying that she is _lying_, Headmistress…"

"No your Majesty, but it would be negligent to overlook the fact that Spirit's compulsion is reported to be irresistible—if in fact, Lord Voda used it on her… how did she manage to escape his thrall?"

"Viktoria? It's a valid question." Lissa's voice softened, sounding almost apologetic.

I stared at the black box attached to the telephone, frowning—it hadn't occurred to me that my freakish gift might be exposed. "I… uh…"

"The silver necklace around her neck is charmed," Yeva said sharply. "I had worries about the young Moroi men at Court taking advantage of my granddaughter—one tried in the past back home, and came close to succeeding. I asked a Spirit user in Baia to give me something that would make her immune to compulsion in any form—the same woman who sent you the charmed the necklace we gave you upon our arrival."

"Preposterous," Kirova scoffed. "There is no way to render a person—"

"Actually… there is. I remember reading something about it in one of the books there at the Academy… of course we weren't sure if it was true… not until now. It's a perfect example of the point I'm trying to make—Spirit is capable of so much more than anyone realizes… that's exactly why we have to make an example out of what this boy has done. We have to show everyone that no one is above the law—that Spirit users who abuse their gift will be held accountable for their actions."

"We're not even sure if he _is_ a Spirit user—"

Lissa cut her off impatiently. "Is Adrian attending this meeting?"

"Right here cousin," Adrian said, "hanging on your every word."

"Have you seen him? Checked his Aura?"

"I have—he's one of us… but I have to say… his Aura is pretty disturbing," Adrian shifted, moving around to the side of Yeva's chair—perching on the arm. "He's unstable, Lissa—and by that I mean he's a candidate for becoming a resident of whatever nut ward they locked Avery in."

Lissa's sigh echoed across the speaker. "Having a Spirit user slip under the radar when the students were retested is troublesome, Headmistress—the fact he's mentally disturbed creates an even bigger problem. Obviously we need to look into alternative means to insure the Voda boy isn't the only one you missed."

"We _specifically_ followed the new guidelines—"

"Then perhaps you need a Spirit user on campus to test all the students _again_. I'll speak with Sonya Karp in the morning and see if she would be willing to spend a few weeks at Saint Vladimir's."

"In light if the circumstances in which she left… I'm not certain that would be wise—"

"I don't recall asking your opinion on the matter." Lissa's voice was like ice—Kirova visibly flinched at the sharpness in her tone. "Out of all of us, Sonya happens to be the most qualified to handle the task. She has experience working with students, and she's excellent at reading Auras—if there are any other Spirit users hiding amongst the student body, their Auras will stand out like a beacon, giving them away."

"I meant no disrespect," the old woman back peddled quickly. "Of course we'll handle it in whatever manner you want—"

"What I want is to go back to sleep… but first I believe you owe Viktoria an apology for holding her against her will."

Kirova pursed her lips, shooting me a dark look. "She attacked a Royal—"

"Who was breaking Moroi law. The Guardians are our peacekeepers, Headmistress—I realize in the past they have been punished for this sort of thing… however, during my reign, they will _not_ be penalized for doing their job and upholding our laws."

"Yes, your Majesty."

There was a long, drawn out silence—finally, Lissa sighed again. "I meant for you to apologize _now,_ Headmistress Kirova."

Two spots of color appeared on the Moroi's pale cheeks—so faint they wouldn't have been visible if not for her pale skin. "Please accept my apology—personally, and on behalf of the Academy for… our _mistake_."

I stared at her for a moment—my lips curving up as I realized she'd given me the perfect opportunity to avert another problem. "It is forgiven… provided Novice Carslile is not sent away for being impregnated by her Royal _rapist_."

Kirova tensed—if looks could kill, I would have dropped dead on the spot. For a moment, no one spoke—then the sound of Lissa clearing her throat echoed through the room. "Viktoria… did _someone_ imply that the young lady would be sent away?"

I arched a brow, returning the Moroi woman's glare with one of my own. "Yes Queen Vasilisa—the Headmistress said she could not allow a pregnant teenager to remain on campus… that she would be sent somewhere more suitable for a girl in her condition."

Kirova looked like she wanted to choke the life out of me. "I was thinking of what was best for the girl and her unborn child—"

I'm sure you were… the same way you were thinking of what was best for Rose when you tried to send her away and separate us," Lissa's anger was evident. "Novice Carslile will continue her training here at Court, under medical supervision at the Voda family's expense. Until my transport arrives to retrieve them, Lord Daniel Voda is to be kept locked up—and I don't want to hear any nonsense about confining him to his dorm room. We don't reward rapists with unneeded luxury—the cell you used for Victor will do nicely. Am I understood?"

"Of course—" Kirova's jaw tensed as the sound of Lissa slamming down the phone echoed through the room. Scowling and shaking her head, her furious gaze moved from the phone to Alberta Petrov. "I told you this would happen if you didn't get Hathaway in line. Obviously I was right—Rose has been a horrible influence on her. Vasilisa used to be a polite, conscientious girl—now she's rude and abrupt, just like her Guardian!"

We all stared at her for a moment—too shocked by her outburst to speak; the silence that filled the room in the wake of her angry words was heavy and uncomfortable, making me shift restlessly in my chair. Her eyes narrowed, flicking between us—I truly think she did not comprehend the depth of what she'd done. "Is there a problem?"

"Well now… that all depends," Adrian drawled, standing up and patting his pockets—pulling out his pack of cloves, "on whether or not you consider high treason to be problematic."

She stared at him. "What?"

"Come on Kirova—I know you took Ancient Moroi Law in school." He lit a cigarette, smirking.

"There is no smoking on this campus—"

"To speak out against the Moroi's anointed sovereign in front of a member of the peerage or in a gathering of two or more people is considered treason and shall be justly punished—I'd say you've got more pressing concerns than where I smoke, Headmistress."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "I did nothing of the sort!"

"You defamed the Queen's character in front of a Royal," He smirked. "Ironic, isn't it? We're here because you accused Viktoria of a crime… and now the shoe is on the proverbial other foot."

"I certainly didn't mean anything treasonous—"

"It says nothing about _intent_ in the law," he pointed out—obviously enjoying making her squirm. "As a loyal subject, it is technically my duty to report the offense."

"That law hasn't been enforced in centuries!"

"Rose Hathaway might disagree with you—I'm sure you're aware part of the evidence used against her in her trial was the fact she verbally berated my Aunt in front of an assembled audience."

"Lord Ivashkov… I _already_ apologized to Miss Belikova. If you're trying to prove something—"

"This has absolutely nothing to do with her—it's about setting things right." He said, his eyes flicking over to me. "

"Then get to the point—what is it you want?"

"Vika?" He arched a brow—gesturing towards the desk; I stared at him a moment, wondering what he was getting at—then it hit me. He was giving me a chance to air my grievances—and I wasn't about to let it slip away.

"What _we _want," I said, imitating Lissa's haughty tone, "is to see all the Guardians who fell protecting this Academy properly honored. You put up statues of your wealthy Moroi patrons, but can't be bothered with even a plaque for the dhampirs who shed their blood to keep your worthless Moroi ass safe!"

"Viktoria Aleksandra!" Yeva hissed. "Language!"

"Language be damned to hell a thousand times over!" I snapped. "Where is the memorial honoring my brother's sacrifice? Or your nephew Savva's, Grandmother? Where is the one for Emil's cousin, and the rest of the Guardians who died in that horrible cave?"

"We don't have money in the budget—"

"You have money in the budget for luxury suites for the Moroi—money to keep the grounds of this Academy in pristine shape!" I was so angry I was shaking—my chest heaved as I struggled to breathe. "You have money for the things you deem _'important'_… for everything but what matters the most—honoring the men and women who spend their lives in servitude. I cannot _wait_ to get back to Saint Basil's and spread word of how things are done at the Academies in the States! Moroi students raping their peers… dhampir guests being detained and treated like criminals for doing their duty… and not a single _fucking_ monument to the warriors that fell during the Battle of Saint Vladimir's!"

"Enough!" Yeva slammed her hand down on the arm of my chair, cutting me off just as my rant was picking up steam. "These are things we will bring to Vasilisa's attention… _she_ is the one who will get things done—not some petty bureaucrat."

"How dare you—"

"Do not start with me woman!" Yeva snapped, her dark eyes flashing with anger. "I am just as upset as my granddaughter, but I know when to speak and when to still my tongue. I would suggest you not push me a single inch farther, or I will _show _ you what happens when someone insults the Moroi Queen in the presence of a member of the old Guard!"

"I think we all just need to take a breath and calm down," Deidre said, "this has been a very stressful day for all of us."

I glanced over at her—she'd been so quiet I'd forgotten she was in the room. "More stressful for some of us than others."

"You're right." She smiled at me, not offended by the petulance that laced my words. "Now might be a good time to adjourn—I was hoping you wouldn't mind stopping off to see Novice Carslile before your flight… she's stopped responding to everyone. It's a coping mechanism—she's retreated into herself in an attempt to escape reality."

I opened my mouth, but before I could respond, the headmistress answered for me—her eyes locking with mine. "Absolutely not—she's going straight to the airstrip to await boarding. Is that clear, Novice Belikova?"

If she thought she could intimidate me, she was very, very mistaken.

"No—it is not." I stood up, towering over her. "If you have a problem with me comforting an underage dhampir girl that was raped on your watch, I suggest you take it up with Vasilisa Dragomir—I'm sure she'd love being disturbed again at this hour."

"Right now our primary focus needs to be on Stacey Carslile," Deidre said more forcefully, shooting Kirova a pointed look. "Miss Belikova is closer to her age, and she tried to help her—that might make Stacey more receptive to talking to her."

"Fine." The headmistress frowned, waving her hand towards the door. "If you'll all excuse me, I have arrangements to make—I trust you can see yourselves out."

Yeva glared at the woman—visibly bristling at being dismissed. "If you want respect, you must first give it Madam… that is a lesson I think you need to learn."

"I don't expect the students to respect me, Ms. Belikova— I expect them to respect my _position_ as Headmistress of this Academy." Kirova scowled, watching Adrian helped Yeva up from her chair. "When young people don't respect authority figures, it leads to anarchy and chaos. They need a firm, unyielding hand to guide them."

"I didn't fall for that sort of claptrap propaganda when Stalin tried shoving it down the throat of the people in my homeland—I am hardly going to suddenly accept it as the gospel when it comes from the likes of _you_," Yeva snapped. "He tried to make us all conform to a hive like mentality the same way you do with the students here—believing there is only black and white, ignoring all the colors in between. Young people have a _choice—_they have other options besides just going into service. How many dhampir students have you encouraged to further their education? To become doctors, or to study law and politics? I'll wager the answer is _none._"

"Dhampirs sole purpose on this earth is to serve and protect the Moroi—"

"No—we are not slaves. We are not your property—we are living, breathing, _thinking_ creatures. We have the same rights the Moroi do—to live happy, fulfilling lives… to find love and start families. You raise these students to be automatons—meat shields who sacrifice everything, gaining nothing in return."

"Without us, your people would cease to exist! It is in your best interest—"

"Perhaps death is preferable to some when compared with a life spent in slavery." Yeva said, her eyes narrowing. Taking Adrian's arm, she led him to the door; I followed a few steps behind—I could practically _feel _ the Moroi woman's glare burning a hole in the back of my head. "Times are changing, _Headmistress_ Kirova… someday soon, you will find that dhampirs do not need the Moroi nearly as much as everyone thinks."

The sharp stab of pain that lanced my brain as she spoke made me grimace; they were seemingly innocent words, but ones that were weighed down by something no one else could sense. I rubbed my temples as we followed the Moroi counselor through the building to her office.

"After Daniel tried to sneak into her room, Izolda and I thought Stacey would be more at ease in one of the quiet rooms near my office," she said, glancing back at us. "I'm afraid I wasn't exaggerating… once Lord Ivashkov finished questioning her, she refused to say another word… she's self-soothing the way small children often do—rocking back and forth… humming."

"What is this… quiet room? Surely secluding her will only serve to make her think she has done something wrong—"

"The Guidance center hasn't been fully staffed for several years—I converted several of the empty offices into … well… meditation rooms, of sorts. The Headmistress didn't approve, but since I offered to pay for the changes myself, out of pocket, she could hardly refuse." The Moroi woman stopped walking, turning to face us. "They're just calm, peaceful places that students can use if they're feeling overwhelmed, or depressed. Queen Vasilisa was actually my inspiration for creating them—she struggled with depression when she was here. Given what we've learned about the adverse effects of Spirit, I thought it would be proactive to have somewhere private available for Spirit users to escape to should any more pop up—one of Vasilisa's main concerns was hiding what she was going through."

"That's… actually a really great idea—sometimes when I'm feeling… off… my surroundings seem to make it more difficult to calm down," Adrian offered. "I know it sounds weird, but bold colors tend to make it harder to fight off the instability."

Deidre nodded. "They tend to overstimulate the mind—that's the reason most mental health facilities go with drab, neutral colors like muted greens and beiges. It helps keep the patients calm and centered." She started walking again—we turned down another hall, passing through a narrow door with the word 'Guidance Center' etched on the glass. "Ms. Belikova and Lord Ivashkov… if you'll wait here, please—we don't want to overwhelm Stacey with too many visitors at once."

I helped Yeva situate herself on one of the low, comfortable looking couches—Adrian plopped down beside her, immediately propping his feet up on the table. "I don't suppose I can smoke in here?"

"I'm afraid not—but don't worry, we shouldn't be too long. There's a small courtyard through that door if you feel like you can't wait—just please dispose of your cigarette when you're done."

I followed her as she moved past the empty reception desk, down a short corridor lined with doors—at the far end, beside the last door, a Guardian leaned against the wall, looking bored. Deidre called out a greeting as we approached. "Any problems?"

"No—it's been quiet. Do you need me to stick around, or…?"

"You can go, thank you Guardian Masters." Deirdre waited until he'd moved past us, then reached over, laying her hand on my arm. "I'll wait out here—please… try not to upset her. The Voda boy completely wiped the memory of being pregnant out of her mind… remembering it was quite a shock for her."

"Of course—thank you Madam."

She knocked softly on the door, then pushed it open. "Stacey? You have a visitor."

I brushed past her, glancing around with interest as I stepped into the room; it wasn't nearly as well lit as the hallway—the overhead lighting fixtures had been removed, replacing the customary banks of bright florescent bulbs replaced with a single recessed unit that emitted a soft, warm glow. Most of the light in the room came from a small lamp that was sitting on the small table situated between two large, overstuffed chairs—Novice Carslile was curled up in one of them with her arms wrapped around her legs, hiding her face in the hollow created by her knees.

I didn't speak right away—instead I continued examining the room itself; the walls had been painted a soothing shade that was neither blue nor gray, but somewhere in between—a color that brought to mind the sky right before a thunderstorm, when the clouds were full of rain. The soft, ambient sound of trickling water added to the serene atmosphere— it came from a small fountain in the shape of rocky waterfall that was situated on a long credenza that sat against the wall on the far side of the room. I was on the verge of walking over to examine it more closely when Carslile's teary voice stopped me in my tracks.

"I'm sorry I lied…"

The mumbled words pulled my attention away from the rooms peaceful décor; I moved over to the empty chair, sinking down in its comfortable cushions. "It's not your fault—he made you do it."

"I'm still sorry… you didn't deserve it."

"Well… neither did you," I pointed out gently. When she didn't respond, I sighed. "I came to say goodbye… we'll be leaving in just a little while—"

"It's my fault isn't it?" She cut me off, lifting her face to look at me; her eyes were red and puffy—her cheeks stained with tears. "They're making you leave because you tried to stop him."

"Of course not—we only intended to stay a couple of days. We have a limited amount of time to visit my brother at Court before we have to head home. I have to get back to school… I'm already missing the first part of my Field Service as it is."

Her brow furrowed. "We don't start ours until—"

"At Saint Basil's ours is much longer. The program there is much more intense than it is here. We don't even get time off on weekends—if our Moroi choses to go into the city or go home for a visit, we have to accompany them." I grimaced. "Believe me, I'm not looking forward to it—I'd much rather spend a long weekend at home in Baia then in some strangers house."

She studied me for a moment, worrying the corner of her lip with her teeth. "Can I ask you something? Without it… you know… offending you?"

"Of course." I grabbed a tissue out of the dispenser on the table between us, holding it out to her. "As long as you wipe your face and blow your nose first."

As she leaned over to take it from my outstretched hand, her eyes met mine; they were fill of fear and uncertainty—there was no trace of the happiness that had been there when I'd met her in Alto's classroom. "Do you know if it's really as bad as everyone says in the communes? Will they force me to… uh… be with strange men?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "It's not like that at all, Stacey, believe me. I think they spread those rumors because they are afraid if the truth gets out, more dhampirs will decide they'd rather live normal lives than going into service. I live in a commune… it's just like any small village. My mother is a midwife… my sister works in a pharmacy—they're not blood whores."

"But—"

"But nothing. I won't lie to you… there are some women who _chose_ to sell themselves to the Moroi, but no one forces them to do it. For the most part, the dhampir women in Baia just… _support_ each other, you know? They help each other out with babysitting or bringing by to help out when money is tight. It's sort of like we're all one big extended family… watching out for each other and helping those who need it. And anyway… you don't have to worry about it—you're not going to a commune."

"I'll have to—Headmistress Kirova won't let me stay here… and I haven't got anywhere else to go."

"You do—the Queen has ordered Kirova to send you to Court, so you can receive medical care and complete your training after the baby is born. If you decide to keep it, I mean."

She stared at me, not blinking. "They'll make me have it—"

"They won't… the choice is yours." I said firmly.

"Everyone says our numbers are declining though…"

"That doesn't matter—you're a girl, not a brood mare," I snapped—realizing a moment too late how harsh I sounded. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the anger her comment roused. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out at you… I just feel very strongly about this. If you aren't ready to become a mother… if you don't feel like you can go through with it… then they can't force you to, Stacey."

"I… I'm just all mixed up inside. I didn't want this—none of it. I wanted to get a Guarding position here at the Academy… to be a teacher." Her face crumpled up, a fresh batch of tears slipping free.

I tugged at a loose thread on the sleeve of my sweatshirt, feeling completely out of my element; I wasn't the comforting sort—I preferred to keep my own emotions locked up inside me, and for others to do the same. "It's not my place to influence you one way or the other… but there _are _dhampir couples who would love to adopt a baby since they can't have one of their own. If you decide to go through with the pregnancy… you _do_ have options, okay? And one of those is the opportunity to give a childless couple the greatest gift they could ever hope to receive."

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks, staring off into space, not answering me—in fact, she remained silent for so long that I began to worry that I'd overstepped my bounds. "Look… I didn't mean to—"

"You had something to do with this, didn't you?" She cut me off, her eyes flicking over to lock with mine. "You convinced them not to send me to a commune."

I chewed at the corner of my lip, unsure of how I should respond. I didn't want her to feel indebted to me—and I knew she would if she knew I'd argued on her behalf. "No… honestly… I didn't. Someone informed the Queen what was going on—having you come to Court was all her idea. She really cares that dhampirs receive fair treatment."

Her sudden burst of laughter startled me so much I jumped—I eyed her warily, wondering if she was on the verge of hysterics. "I've been sitting here for hours wishing I was dead—thinking my life was ruined and that I'd spend the rest of it being forced to fuck Moroi men for money. And now… even though this horrible, disgusting thing has happened to me… it almost seems worth it, in a weird way. I mean… I'm going to get to finish my training at Court—where the best Guardians in the world serve. I might get to train with your brother, or with Guardian Hathaway… to learn things that I'd never experience here."

"My grandmother always says that every dark, dismal cloud has a silver lining—I guess that is the reward we get for making it through the bad things, yes?" I smiled, standing up—leaning over to hug her; she hesitated for a moment, then returned the embrace, squeezing me tight. "If you ever need to talk about this… or anything at all… you just call me, okay? I'm the only Belikova at Saint Basil's. Or you can get my number in Baia from my brother when you get to Court."

"Thanks Miss Belikova—"

"Vika… I'm just Vika," I said softly, pulling away.

A discreet knock sounded on the door behind me—I glanced over my shoulder as Adrian stepped inside, flashing an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt, but they're ready for us at the airstrip—it's time to go."

Carslile shifted in the chair, narrowing her eyes as she studied him. "I remember you now—"

"Well you should… I'm the one who helped you break that asshole's compulsion." Adrian leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No… I mean I remember you from before that. You were here last year, right? You used to follow Rose Hathaway around."

He grimaced. "Blame the alcohol—I've sobered up since then."

Her eyes flicked from Adrian to me, then back again. "Are you stalking her now?"

He shrugged. "I suppose you could say that… but I don't think she minds."

"She has a boyfriend, you know." Carslile scowled at him. "A Guardian—"

"Yeah, I know. I'll let you in on a little secret…" Adrian dug in his pocket, pulling out his ring—Carslile gasped as he slid it on. "I'm him."

"I…oh… well…" she blinked, her brow wrinkling. "I guess it's okay then."

Adrian—or rather, Johnson—frowned. "That's it? No amazement? No questions?"

Carslile eyed him a moment, then shrugged. "It's not my business. I mean… it would be different if you were trying to fool her or something—then I'd kick your ass. But you're not… so it's okay."

The ring came off—Adrian stared at her with a puzzled look on his face. "Why would I try to fool her?"

"Your reputation isn't that great—everyone says you're some sort of… you know." She blushed, her eyes dropping to the floor. "But I guess they're just rumors. I've seen the way you… uh… Guardian Johnson… looks at her. You never looked at Hathaway like that."

My face heated—I ducked my head down, attempting to hide the flush of pleasure that colored my cheeks. Despite the fact she was wrong, it was hard to ignore the surge of happiness that her words had roused within me. I demurred, rationalizing away the comment. "That is probably because you never saw Guardian Johnson look at her—just Adrian. I am sure he often wore a similar look, you just don't realize it because he looked different then, yes?"

Her eyes continued to flick between us—her lips slowly curving up into a slow, self- satisfied smile. "Nah… he's doing it right now. Trust me… he never looked all goofy like that when he was with Hathaway."

"Excuse me?" Adrian shot her an offended look. "I don't _do_ goofy."

"You know what I mean… sort of… love struck. The way cartoon characters look when they get hearts in their eyes." Her expression shifted—a look of wistful longing replacing her smug satisfaction. "It's really sort of… sweet. I hope someday someone will look at me like that."

Adrian's gaze shifted from her face to the air around her—his brow wrinkling as he studied something only he could see. His indignant expression melted away, a look of worry slowly replacing it—whatever he saw, it obviously disturbed him greatly.

I stood up, my eyes still locked on his face—wondering what had upset him. "We should be going—"

He shook his head, his eyes moving over to me as he pushed himself away from the wall. "You're right—Alberta and Yeva already headed over with the luggage… they're probably wondering what's taking so long."

I nodded, reaching over and laying my hand on Carslile's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I will be at Court for a bit longer—if you get lonely and need to see a familiar face, I'm staying in the Royal guest suites."

"Maybe you can show me around," she offered, giving me a hesitant smile.

"Sure… though I haven't had much time to explore," I admitted. "It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be. I'll probably get us both lost—"

"Which is why I'll play tour guide and you two lovely ladies can be my tourees."

"I think you mean tourists," Carslile stretched her legs out on the oversized ottoman in front of her, appearing a little more at ease; the trapped, fearful look in her eyes had vanished completely—she looked more relaxed now that she knew a commune wasn't in her future.

"Whatever—you say tomato… I say Bloody Mary." He shrugged, tugging open the door. "Listen—if I were you, I'd lay low until the Guardians arrive from Court. Kirova wasn't too happy at having the Queen get involved—better stay under her radar."

"I will… thanks. For everything." I was almost to the door when her voice stopped me—I glanced back over my shoulder, arching a brow. "Could you tell them I'd like to see that counselor now? I think I'm ready to talk to her about what happened."

"Of course—that's a very wise decision, Stacey. Talking about it won't take the pain away… but I promise it will make it easier to bear."

"That's enough—for now at least. Hopefully in time… it will all fade away. Like a bad dream, you know?"

I nodded, brushing past Adrian; Deirdre had kept her word—she was sitting outside the door in a folding chair, jotting down notes in a file. "Ms. Szendrey? She wants to talk to you—she seems a lot better."

The Moroi woman smiled, standing up. "Excellent—that's exactly what I was hoping for. Thank you Viktoria—I want you to know I'll be sending a letter to Saint Basil's outlining what happened here. They can add it to your file—I think it will prove helpful when you graduate."

"That isn't necessary—"

"I think it is. You acted instinctively, protecting someone without thinking about your own welfare—that type of selflessness deserves to be rewarded. Testimonials like the one I'll be sending can be beneficial when negotiating compensation with the Royals." Giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze, she moved past me—greeting Carslile warmly as she shut the door.

"My little heroine," Adrian teased, claiming my hand as we moved towards the exit. "Rushing in and saving the day must be in the Belikov genes."

"It wasn't like that at all," I murmured, blushing. "She was acting extremely strange… then I felt him using Spirit. When he got cocky… I snapped. I guess it just shows I need to work on my control more—I could have restrained him without resorting to violence."

"Maybe you could have, Angel, but what if it had been someone else trying to stop him? They wouldn't be immune to his compulsion. I think you taught him a pretty important lesson."

"I doubt it. I've met his kind before… they never learn." I glanced over at him, studying his profile. "I'm assuming you had something to do with Lissa finding out what was happening?"

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "In a roundabout way. I called Abe and asked him to pass the word along."

"It's a good thing you did… I have a feeling that horrible old woman wanted to ship me off to some gulag," I grumbled.

"We don't have those here, sweetheart—just plain old prisons," he smiled, squeezing my hand.

"Well I wouldn't want to end up in one of those either." I huffed, making a face. "I am very glad I do not attend this Academy—there is no way I could deal with her on a regular basis."

His lips twitched up in a wry grin. "You know… it's funny… Rose always used to gripe about what a hard ass Kirova was—she'd bitch and moan about how the she was always riding her, just waiting for the opportunity to expel her. I thought once Rose left there was no way Kirova would ever let her re-enroll—I figured when she came back, I'd take her to Court with me. I planned on convincing Aunt Tati to let her guard me even though she hadn't graduated, but Avery almost killing Lissa really changed Kirova's attitude—she practically welcomed Rose back with open arms, like she was some kind of returning prodigy."

Despite my trying to school my features, I frowned. I knew he loved Roza, but hearing him talk about the plans he'd made for a future with her really hurt—and as silly as it was… I didn't like the thought of her guarding him, either. It awakened a wave of jealousy inside me that was almost impossible to ignore. "You wanted her to guard you?"

"Mhmmm… not really— she would have been my Guardian in name only. I just wanted to be with her any way I could. I knew she'd balk at the idea of my financially supportting her, so it seemed like the best solution—that was she could draw a salary and be independent until I convinced her to marry me."

The ache in my chest doubled—I bit my lip, ducking my head down to hide the pain his words had roused. "I see."

"Of course, she had other plans—the entire time I was trying to work out a happily ever after for us, she was plotting out a way to break Victor Dashkov out of jail." His voice was bitter—the memories he'd stirred weren't good ones. "She kept reassuring me that there was nothing going on… that it was me she wanted to be with… but the whole time I was dreaming about our future… she was thinking about your brother_._"

I didn't respond—there was nothing I could say that would erase what had happened… nothing I could do to make him forget Roza's betrayal. His hand tightened around mine so much that it was almost painful—I squeezed his back, trying to silently show my support, but it seemed like a pitifully small gesture in light of the pain he was feeling. We lapsed into silence as we crossed the campus, heading for the motor pool; from time to time, I glanced over at him—trying to gauge his mindset, but he kept his gaze locked on the ground beneath our feet, making it impossible for me to see his eyes.

The pathway beneath our feet branched off through a thick copse of trees—gradually concrete replaced the decorative brick, alerting me that we were near our destination. I forced myself to speak up—I had to make sure he was okay before we reached the others. "Dusha… are you okay? Do you need—"

"No… I'm fine… just thinking about things," he muttered.

"Things with Roza?"

"No… I was actually thinking about Carslile."

I glanced over at him, slowing my pace—hoping he would match it. He did. "What about her?"

"It doesn't matter what she does… she's never going to be able to make a living as a Guardian. Her future is ruined, Vika."

I frowned. "No it's not. She has options—and she's not a quitter. She told me she wants to finish her training. She wants to be an instructor."

"I'm sure she does, but the fact of the matter is there's no way they'll let her work with students… and she'll never get a charge," he said. "Even if she passes her trials with flying colors, no Moroi will trust her enough to accept her into service."

I stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

"What happened will go on her record, Angel—_all_ of it. Think about it—she was repeatedly raped by a Moroi while under compulsion. Anyone who reads that is bound to wonder what kind of long term affect it will have on her. No Royal Moroi is going to put their life in the hands of someone who might have PTSD or who might subconsciously harbor a grudge against the Moroi for what happened to her."

"That's ridiculous! She wouldn't—"

"Is it? Would _you_ trust her to guard _me_, Vika?"

I scowled. "No—but that has nothing to do with what happened. I wouldn't trust _anyone _ with your life but me."

The corners of his lips quirked up in an amused half smile. "Not even Dimitri?"

"_Especially_ not Dimitri—he already wants to kill you, remember?"

"Fine… what about Rose?"

"Absolutely not—no matter who Roza is assigned to, her initial instinct will _ always_ be to protect Lissa and Dimitri before anyone else." I stared off into the distance, mentally running over all the dhampirs I knew—Novices as well as full-fledged Guardians. "I was wrong… there is one person I would trust—and that trust proves that your theory about Novice Carslile is completely wrong."

"Care to elaborate on that Angel? You're being cryptic—"

"I would trust your life to Yeva… and not because she is my grandmother. I'd trust her because she was the _best. _ Everything I know, I learned from her—she's even taught me things that they don't teach in the Academies."

"That doesn't exactly prove me wrong, Vik—"

"She was almost raped by her charge… and she was forced to watch him burn my grandfather to death right in front of her. It was a horrifying, evil thing, but it didn't leave her bitter, or turn her against the Moroi—if it had, she never would have allowed any of us to go to Saint Basil's. She wouldn't have worked so hard to train us to be the most effective killing machines possible if she held a grudge."

He stared at me a moment, open mouthed, then he shifted, averting his gaze to the ground—the faintest hint of a flush racing across his cheeks. "I suppose it would be really inappropriate for me to say that hearing you talk about how lethal you are is kind of hot… wouldn't it?"

I smiled. "That is hardly the point I was trying to make, Adrian."

"I know… that was my charming attempt at lightening a really intense conversation." His expression softened as he glanced up at me. "I'm sorry Yeva had to go through that—"

"Please don't mention it to her—I don't think she's ever told anyone but me. The only reason I said anything was to make you see that Stacey isn't a lost cause."

"I'm not the one you have to convince, sweetheart—and there's a little more to it than you think. She's had compulsion used on her for a very long time—while I had her under… she confessed that he's been doing it for almost two years." Sighing deeply, he squeezed my hand. "I think the reason he pulled that shit today was to discredit her. Stripping like that in front of everyone… that's not exactly something good girls do, you know? I think he was trying to make her look like a slut so that when it got out she was pregnant, no one would believe her if she told them the truth."

"It makes sense… but he didn't succeed, Dusha," I pointed out. "We discovered the truth, so everyone will know why she—"

"She's unbalanced Vika—I saw it in her Aura. Probably from having her mind fucked with for such a long time."

"What do you mean… unbalanced?" I frowned, not liking the direction he was headed one little bit.

"She has the potential to go insane, Viktoria—what the hell do you think I mean?" He snapped, releasing my hand.

I flinched at the anger in his voice, but I didn't move away from him; instead, I studied him, cataloging the warning signs—committing them to my mind. He was avoiding my gaze, but there were other tells that were not so easy to hide—my eyes dropped to his hand, watching as his fingers began to spastically twitch. "Adrian… how much spirit have you—"

The scoffing sound he made cut me off. "Enough that my Aura probably matches your little Novice friend… hell, at this point, mines probably a lot worse."

I glanced around, checking to make sure there was no one near us. "How do you know that's what you saw in her Aura, Dusha? Perhaps it was something else… maybe something that ties to her pregnancy—"

"I've seen it—it surrounds Lissa when she's dancing to close to the edge," he muttered—his hand moved up, fingers combing through his hair, tugging roughly at the strands. "I can feel them seeping into my mind—livid purple… prussian blue and charcoal, with a slash of olive green… the colors all mixing and muddling up together. Gray to purple… then to blue… yellow to green—like the sky before a tornado forms. They're swirling around in my head in a funnel, destroying everything they touch. Eventually… she's going to snap. Just like Lissa… just like _me._"

"You aren't going to go crazy, Adrian—I won't let it happen! My blood—"

"Not today… or tomorrow… or even next week… but it _will_ happen. I'll slip too far into the darkness to find my way out again—it's inevitable, Vika. You can't be with me twenty four hours a day—"

"I _can_." I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me—ignoring the way my stomach clenched at the frenzied look in his eyes. "You heard Yeva earlier—she gave her blessing. I can be your Guardian—I can protect you from _everything_, including the madness, if you'll let me."

"You have classes to attend—"

"Fuck school!" I snapped. The profanity fell from my lips easily—my tone clearly betrayed the scorn I felt at the implication that my education came first. "You are more important to me than graduating, Adrian Ivashkov—I can guard you without a diploma just as easily as Roza could have! The fact I am capable of taking down the experienced Guardians at this Academy _proves_ that I am more than qualified to do it right now!"

"You can't just _quit—_"

"The hell I can't! I don't even need parental consent—I'm an adult, remember?"

Either the anger in my voice or my cursing affected him—it seemed to pull him back from the demons that were tearing up his mind. The confused, manic look in his eyes lessened—to my surprise it was replaced with an intense determination as he stared at me. "If you drop out before you graduate because of me, how do you think Dimitri will react, Angel? He'd hold it against me forever—is that what you want?"

It was a logical point, but it only served to fan the spark of anger inside me into a full out blaze. "Did Dimitri take me into consideration when he broke his precious Roza out of jail and became a fugitive? Or when he went on that fucking suicide mission in the cave? No! He didn't even _call_ us to tell us what was going on—to hear our voices one last time in case the worse came to pass. From the moment he met Roza Hathaway, she became the center focus of his world—I'll be _damned_ if I sit back and let my life revolve around pleasing _ him_!"

His hands darted out, cupping my cheeks—his dark green eyes locking with mine. "His approval matters to _me_, Viktoria. He's the closest thing you've got to a father—I want to prove I'm _worthy_ to him. Your dropping out would just be another nail in my coffin as far as he's concerned."

"Yeva is the head of the family—"

"And she told me I had to make peace with Dimitri," he snapped, releasing my face and jerking back—increasing the distance between us. "That's _exactly_ what I'm going to do—the only thing that remains to be seen is whether or not you'll help me make it happen! You just don't get it at all, do you? I need to prove it's real this time, Viktoria—this thing that's between us. Not just to your brother… I have to prove it to _myself! _I can't let what happened with Rose happen again—if it does, it will destroy me."

His raised voice was tinged with something I couldn't name—it disturbed me almost as much as the change I could see taking place in his eyes. The momentary clarity my anger had roused was ebbing back—it was being replaced with the lost, far away confusion that I'd seen when I'd found him on the floor of our room, mumbling about how I was gone.

I didn't stop to think—I just acted. Grabbing his face in my hands, I crushed my lips against his—so hard that it was almost painful… hard enough to bruise. He reacted automatically—pulling me closer; his mouth opened beneath mine, welcoming the prodding insistence of my tongue—completely unaware of the hidden motive behind the intensity of my demanding kiss.

It took less than a second for me to slice open my tender flesh on the sharpness of a fang; the bitter, coppery taste of my blood seasoned our kiss as it flowed from my tongue, filling his mouth with what he was too stubborn to admit he needed. His moan of pleasure was muffled by my mouth; I pressed myself closer, rubbing against him—as affected by the exchange as he was. I could feel the faintest hint of the ecstasy that our sharing created begin to stir within me… but at that exact same moment, he tensed, jerking back—tearing his lips from mine with a muttered curse.

"God damn it, I said I was fine!" He glared at me, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. "I've been dealing with this for years—I know what I can handle!"

"Clearly you don't!" I tried to keep my voice even, but my frustration seeped through, sharpening the edge of my words. "I could see the look in your eye—you were starting to drift away!"

"You can't do that every time I seem a little off, Viktoria—you'd be drained within a fucking week. I know my limits better than you do, for fucks sake." He scowled at me—I scowled right back. "Don't _ever_ do that again—"

"Or what? You'll start treating me as horribly as Roza treated you when you tried to help her? Too late—you're doing that_ right now_!"

It slipped out before I could stop it; he flinched as if I'd struck him, but other than that, he did nothing that would betray how my harsh accusation affected him. Without another word, he stormed off down the path, leaving me to stare after him in dismay—wondering how I could utter something so horrible… so _cruel_. It wasn't in my nature to speak harshly to the people I cared about—it wasn't like me to use my words as weapons that would leave painful, aching wounds.

A thought struck me—immediately my stomach clenched, bitter bile rolling inside me. Gagging, I doubled over, vomiting violently in the bushes beside the path—my body shaking as I tried to shove away the terrifying, dark, ugly truth that had occurred to me.

I'd allow my turbulent emotions to make me lash out at someone who hadn't deserved it, which wasn't my way… in fact, it was something I'd fought against for as long as I could remember—thanks to the nightmarish memories that plagued me, and the scars upon my skin. I had thoughtlessly acted like the one person I hated most in all the world.

For the first time in my life… I was truly my father's daughter—in the worst possible way imaginable.

* * *

**_A/N: Unedited/Unproofed _**

**_[I actually started to proof this one, but five pages in and I'd added 2k in notes, so... yeah, I stopped proofing right then and there, lol.]_**


	23. Chapter 23: Effectuation

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm not ashamed to admit I broke down—I think anyone would when faced with the realization that they might be turning into the very thing they'd always feared. It was as if I'd confronted the monster under my bed, only to discover a mirror there, reflecting my own image back at me. As I cried, all the horrible memories that I kept locked away broke free—circling through my head to torment me. Brutal slaps given without warning, or reason. Being drug around by my hair, his hand pulling so hard that clumps tore free from my scalp. The pain of the belt biting into tender skin, coupled with the lash of acidic, hate filled words—telling me that I was ugly and dumb… that I didn't deserve to live._

_He shattered me a thousand times with his cruelty, tearing me to shreds then stomping on the broken pieces of my soul with glee—yet despite all that he did to me, and how much I hated him… the thing that horrified me the most was the one simple truth I refused to admit. Deep down inside, a part of the bruised, battered little girl that I once was still lived on… longing for a gentle loving touch or a few words of kindness from the monstrous father who had abused her so barbarically._

In those moments, I was brought lower than I'd been in years—so low that I wanted nothing more than to just lay down and die. I cried until my throat was aching and raw—so sore that it actually hurt to draw breath into my lungs. Eventually, I suppose Adrian realized I wasn't behind him—he doubled back, only to find me curled up on the path in a defeated, demoralized heap. I was so lost in my despair that I didn't even realize he'd returned until he dropped down beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"Angel… what—"

"I…. I'm sorry," I choked out—my voice was raspy, making it hard to hear. "I didn't mean it."

"Shhh… I know, sweetheart… please… don't cry." His arms tightened around me—lips brushing against the top of my head.

I shook my head, peering at him—my eyes were so swollen it was hard to see. "You don't understand. It's a curse—I'll hurt the people I love, just like he did. That's why I said that awful, horrible thing to you."

His brow wrinkled. "Who, sweetheart? You're not making any sense—"

"My father." I choked on the words, hating them. "I was acting like him… not me."

"Vik, honey… you were just upset. We all say things we don't mean when we're pissed off—trust me, compared to some of the things people have hurled at me in the past, what you said was pretty mild."

"No, it's more than that—"

"It's not… you're just overwhelmed right now. You've been through a lot today, Angel." He gazed down at me for a moment, his brow wrinkling. "Vika… right before we started arguing… how were you feeling?"

I swiped at my cheeks, frowning. "I don't know… frustrated. Angry… hurt at hearing about the plans you'd made with _her…_ why?"

"I'm going to try something… something with Spirit—"

"You can't! You're already—"

"I promise I'll drink from you as soon as we get to the plane, okay? That little bit you gave me helped a lot… the fuzziness is completely gone."

Before I could stop him, I felt a rush of warmth—instantly, pleasure tightened my body, chasing off the hopeless feelings that were drowning me; I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh of pure relief.

"Better?"

I opened my eyes, surprised to realize that not only was the hopelessness gone, but the crushing agony the memories had roused was absent too. "Yes… what did you—"

"Nothing really… just topped off your tank a little. The weird thing is… your Aura looked completely fine. I mean, besides the fact your emotions were all over the place. But the way you were acting…" His voice trailed off—he studied me, worrying his lip with his fang. "Sometimes when I get stressed, or overtired or upset… I get really depressed—Lissa gets that way too. Your Aura was full of the kind of emotions that are reflected in hers when she gets the urge to hurt herself."

I frowned, shaking my head. "I was upset because I acted like my father, Dusha—lashing out without thinking. It brought back bad memories, that's all. I wasn't depressed or—"

"The dark side of Spirit can bring out the worst in a person, Angel," he said softly, using his thumb to brush away the tears on my cheeks. "I'm not saying that's definitely what it was… I'm just saying that's what it _looked_ like to me."

"I've never felt anything like that before… it was horrible—like I had no reason for living," I admitted. "All the things he used to say to me about being worthless… for the first time ever… I believed them. I believed that I would truly be better off dead."

"Well… you've never shared blood before, right?" He sat back on his heels, his eyes flicking to the empty air around me; whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him—the worried expression faded from his face.

"That's true, but Yeva said it wouldn't affect me, remember? Yin and yang—"

"A balancing act—I know. Don't you think the fact you feel better after I gave you a tiny bit of Spirit back plays into that theory?"

"She would have warned me, though—"

"Maybe it doesn't usually happen, Vik—maybe everything that's gone on in the last twenty-four hours sort of… I don't know… unbalanced the scale, somehow." He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. "We'll figure it out—find a way to keep us both on even ground. We just haven't mastered the learning curve yet. And honestly? I think you missed an important part of what Yeva was trying to tell us."

"That can't be helped—if she didn't phrase things like the sphinx, it would be easier to understand what she says."

He shot me a confused look. "Huh?"

"Mysterious, cryptic riddles?" I smiled as his forehead furrowed up. "Didn't you have to study the classics in school?"

"Of course… but I've drunk away quite a few brain cells since then, Angel."

"Never mind… it doesn't matter—it was just a comparison. What is it that you seem to think I missed?"

"The filling an empty hole thing—it's like a circuit or something. If I take from you, it's bound to leave you low, right? So I have to give back—rinse and repeat, you know?"

I frowned. "An unending cycle… I guess that makes sense. Like Mark taking Oksa's darkness and her healing it out of him."

He nodded. "Sort of makes me wonder if that's why feeding off dhampirs became taboo."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "What do you mean?"

"When Liss and I were researching Spirit, we came across lots of old references to Spirit users gaining nourishment from their bond mates—so obviously it wasn't always considered a bad thing." He shrugged nonchalantly, scratching his head. "Maybe the reason it became so forbidden is because people were scared of Spirit users—you know… it was an attempt to keep them from balancing the darkness. It would be interesting to find out exactly when they started locking us up for going nuts… see how it correlates time wise with the taboos going into effect."

"You're overlooking something rather obvious, though. Surely some Spirit Users have bonded with Moroi—"

"Yeah, but they'd probably slide under everyone's radar. No one would suspect it because… well… that's considered a pretty major kink. We don't usually feed on each other—for one thing, there's no endorphin rush, so it's not particularly fun for the person getting bit… and we don't gain anything from the feeding. There's no human genes in our makeup—Moroi blood can't give us what we need."

"Oh… right." I blushed, feeling foolish.

"Even if you don't take Moroi bond mates into consideration, the taboo still wouldn't necessarily affect all of us—it wouldn't occur to people that 'nourishing' could be more than just blood—I mean… none of us realized Rose was sucking down Lissa's darkness until it was almost too late."

I sighed. "Maybe Yeva knows—"

"We can worry about it later. We've got enough going on and judging by your melt down, you can't handle any more right now, babe."

"You're right." Pulling away, I wiped my cheeks off on my sleeve. "Just remind me to write it down so we don't forget about it, okay?"

"So… we're good?" He reached over, stroking my cheek. "You're not mad about—"

"We're good on one condition—I'm going to come right out and ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me when you answer. Good or bad—I can take it. I'd rather know the truth right now than to find out I was mistaken in the future."

He worried his lower lip with his fang for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay… as long as you understand you might not like my answer. I don't want to fight with you, Vik, or for you to get upset over the truth… but I'm not going to lie to you just to make you happy, either—Rose did that to me and I can tell you from experience… it sucks when you finally learn the truth."

"What was all that really about?" I didn't drop my gaze from his, though I wanted to—I had to force myself to face the fear that was nagging at my mind. "Because it sounded like you're having second thoughts about coming to Saint Basil's. If it's just a daydream… if it's not going to happen… I need to know."

He grimaced. "That's not it at all—but I still stand by the fact you can't skip class every time I feel a little bit crazy."

"Then what?"

"Seeing her like that… it made me think about how quickly things can change. One minute happy… then the next… bam—crazy town." His fingers laced through mine—he squeezed my hand gently, looking absolutely miserable. "It makes me feel like… I don't know… a helpless victim, and I hate that more than anything—it stirs up some really bad memories. When I confronted Rose about what she'd done with your brother… she hurled the fact I acted like a victim in my face. It hurt, you know? It was like getting stabbed in the heart."

"She shouldn't have said that—"

"Yeah well—"

"Hush—let me finish. Spirit's effect on you… it's like a mental illness, Dusha—it is something you have no more control over than I do of having the sight, I get where she was coming from… but for her to say it like that… it was a very low blow." I frowned, playing with his fingers—searching for the right words to soothe away the sting of Roza's careless cruelty. "For a very long time I have hated the dreams I get… they make me feel powerless and out of control. I've been scared of people finding out about them and thinking I'm a freak—I've hidden it down as deep as I can. That is why no one in my family but Yeva knows about them."

"You said it yourself Angel—it's not your fault," he said softly.

"But it is my fault that I chose to sit back and do nothing instead of trying to learn how to master it—that's the point I'm trying to make here. I let my _ fear_ control me… I let it _make _ me a victim." I glanced over at him, wondering if he understood what I meant.

He was silent for a moment. "You're saying it's my fear of going insane that makes me feel helpless… not the instability itself."

"Exactly. I'm not saying it isn't a scary thing Dusha… but there is a big difference in acknowledging something and just accepting it. I'm saying that maybe if you decide to fight against that fear… you will show Roza that you're not a victim—you're someone learning to survive with an incurable disability. That is a very different thing." I shrugged, lifting his hand up and pressing my lips against his palm. "That is what I want… to be considered a survivor rather than a victim. I don't want something I fear to have that much control over my life."

He didn't say anything; I sighed, reaching over to stroke his cheek. "Besides… you and I both know that Roza speaks without taking time to consider how her words might affect other people. She doesn't do it maliciously… she just doesn't have… I don't know… a filter, or something. She doesn't stop to think that what she's trying to say might come across hurtfully or that there might be a more diplomatic way to get her point across."

Still no response—he just stared out into the trees, seemingly lost in the scenery; I chewed at the corner of my lower lip, wondering if I'd said too much—inadvertently deepening to wond Roza had made instead of smoothing it over.

"Are you…" he stopped, clearing his throat. "Do you think that's what she meant that day?"

"Well… I wasn't there Dusha. You can't take one comment and break it down without knowing the whole conversation—things said before or after have some bearing on the meaning. Like when you're reading scripture, you know? You can't just read one single passage and claim to understand the meaning of the entire chapter. But based on other things that I _have_ heard her say… I think that in her own convoluted, brash way… she was trying to tell you that you have a choice in the matter, but you refused to take responsibility."

"She said that being a victim meant I was powerless—that I wouldn't take action, and that was the difference between us. That she'd always done something to fight for herself or other people… and that was something I never did." His voice was hollow sounding—it was obvious the words still had power over him, cutting him to the core.

I couldn't stop myself from making a face. "Perhaps she should have remembered that she has a weak spot too, Dusha. She was very much a victim when she stayed with us in Baia—the loss of my brother left her a broken, fragile thing. When she spoke at his memorial… it was like looking at the shell of a person. Honestly… I did not meet the real Roza—the one you and my brother know—until they came to visit us after his restoration. The one I knew was drifting along aimlessly, not fighting for _anything_. I think…no… never mind." I cut myself off, afraid I might anger him if I kept on.

"Don't leave me hanging like that Vik—believe it or not, I actually value your opinion. It's funny… but I actually trust your judgement on this more than I trust my own."

I fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other—nervous to speak my mind. "I think that deep down… perhaps a part of you is more upset that she wasn't completely honest with you than you are about the cheating."

To give him credit, he didn't scoff at the notion, or even deny it outright—he actually seemed to consider what I'd said, weighing its merit in his mind. "You know… you could be right. I was pissed off about her fucking Belikov while we were together… and it hurt—but the fact she didn't tell me made it a hundred times worse, because I gave her plenty of chances to come clean about her feelings. I asked her outright if I should worry and she told me no, they were through. I would have been mad if she'd told me the truth… and it still would have hurt… but not nearly as much. I mean… I would have lost a girlfriend, but still had my _friend_ once the bad feelings had passed. But her hiding things and lying to me…. It was like… I don't know… I felt like she didn't care about me at all—she didn't consider me… our friendship… important enough to matter. It was like I was completely disposable to her."

"But she did care, Adrian… don't you see? I think that is the exact reason why she _ didn't _tell you—she was afraid of losing you completely." I said softly, thinking about my talk with Yeva on the plane. "Try to put yourself in her shoes for a moment—Roza has never had any really close relationships with anyone other than Lissa. Her whole life has been lived under the shadow of the things her parents did—think about what it would be like to be abandoned at such a young age. To have a mother and father out there… and to be forced to live with the knowledge that they did not care enough to even visit you. I'm guilty of overlooking that too—Yeva had to point it out to me, and it made me feel very ashamed for not considering it before. Things like that… they plant themselves deeply in our subconscious as we grow, affecting us forever. I think Roza will always have abandonment issues the same way I will always struggle with never feeling like I am good enough—"

"Hold up—what does that mean?"

I blushed. "My father hated the sight of me. He thought I was a homely, stupid little child—nothing I ever did pleased him. So no matter what I accomplish… I always feel insecure. A part of me always feel like that idiotic, ugly little girl."

"Your father is a fucking idiot," he said fiercely. "You are a beautiful, kind, talented woman—"

"But that's just it, Dusha… I don't _feel_ that way. I don't feel pretty or skilled—I feel plain and unremarkable. Deep down I feel like if my own father could not love me, no one else will—and I think Roza suffers something similar. She feels like in the end, everyone will abandon her, because if her own parents didn't love her enough to keep her… no one else will either."

He fell silent again, his brow crinkling as he stared down at the path beneath our feet. "You think that's why she's been such a bitch to me? My reacting the way I did sort of… triggered her issues?"

"I do. She lost one of the people she was closest to, Dusha—her natural instinct is to lash out and be… well… bitchy," I said honestly. "I know for a fact that she is still hurting over it… remember what she said at lunch? And Abe said as much too—he asked me to try and patch things up between the two of you if I could."

"Maybe it's past time she and I sat down and tried to talk things out." He sighed, squeezing my hand.

"It will be a good thing for both of you—as long as you go into it prepared. Remember she will be defensive and argumentative—that's just her way, yes?"

"Trust me—I'm used to the less endearing parts of her personality," he muttered, releasing my hand. "Her personality didn't scare me off when I was trying to win her over… I won't let it interfere with my attempt to mend fences."

I frowned, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that tightened my stomach into a painful knot—mentally chastising myself for feeling anxious at the thought of Roza coming back into his life; it was ridiculous for me to feel jealous when I was the one convincing him to make amends—I could acknowledge that, and own it… but that still didn't magically make the bad feelings go away.

"We should probably get a move on before they send out a search party—Yeva is probably having a fit at being kept waiting," he joked, sliding his arm around my shoulder and steering me along the path. "I can hear her now, bitching and moaning about the rudeness of the young."

His words pulled me out of my thoughts—I forced a laugh, trying to pretend there was nothing wrong. "Petrov is probably wanting to throttle us right about now. I don't think she'll be inviting me back to the Academy any time soon."

"Just as well—I think I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime. Too many bad memories." His arm tightened around my shoulder; I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as we walked.

"A few good ones too—like breaking desks and things," I teased lightly—smiling when he chuckled in response.

"That's definitely at the top of my 'good memory' list—" He pressed his lips against the top of my head. "—closely followed by the look on Allie's face when she caught us. Talk about priceless—"

"Do you think she'll really keep quiet about it?" I asked softly, straightening up—a new worry firmly taking root in the back of my mind. "The last thing I need is Dimitri hearing about—"

"She won't tell, Vik. She may bluster and huff and act tough as nails… but deep down I think she's a romantic at heart."

"Mhmmm… you know… she told me we shouldn't be sneaking around… that it makes it look like we're ashamed or something." I glanced over at him, frowning. "She thinks we should be upfront with my brother instead of hiding behind the Guardian Johnson thing."

"Shame has nothing to do with it," he said, scoffing at the thought. "It's more along the lines of avoiding me ending up in a full body cast… or worse."

I glanced over at him, frowning. "I hope you know that if it came down to it… no matter how much I love my brother, I wouldn't stand by and let him hurt you, Dusha—and I seriously doubt my grandmother would either. He might still fight me in an attempt to get at you, but he's smart enough not to even attempt that with Yeva—and not just because of her age, either."

"It's hard for me to grasp the concept of your giant brother being scared of a little old lady," he admitted—his grin betraying how amusing he found the idea.

"She has always been the authority figure in our house. We never went to Mama for permission about things… it was Yeva who had the final say." I shrugged—struggling to find the words to explain the dynamics of our family. "Mama was always loving, and took care of us…but she was… hmmm… distant, at times—wrapped up in her own problems, you know? Her life wasn't exactly easy—Yeva filled her role for her, picking up the slack and taking responsibility for running the house and pretty much raising us most of the time."

"I never really had that—someone keeping me in line, I mean. My parents just froze me out when I did something they didn't approve of. My father's idea of discipline was threatening to cut me off." He stopped for a moment to light a cigarette—looking a little wistful. "Maybe if he'd been a little more like your grandma, I wouldn't be such a fucking mess."

His offhanded comment about his parents sparked something in my mind; I stared out at the forest around us, trying to latch onto what it was—frowning as it clicked into place. "You know… I just realized there is one other aspect where I've let my fear get the upper hand… and I don't know if I'll ever be able to control it."

"Being disciplined by Yeva?" He asked, his smile widening. "Afraid she'll put you over her knee and paddle you?"

"No… my relationship with Dimitri."

His brow wrinkled—smile fading away instantly. "You mean… because of being involved with me?"

"No… not really—it goes much deeper than just that. Since I've come to America… I've seen a side of him that I never knew existed. In some ways… he can be very controlling… and it scares me." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the uneasiness I was feeling in the wake of my realization. "It reminds me a lot of our father and the way he used to act."

"I've got plenty of issues with your brother, Vik, but I have to point out the obvious—I don't think he'd ever resort to physical violence with you."

"I know this… but there are other ways to hurt a person, Dusha. I guess I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?" I ducked my head down, hiding my face—a ridiculous attempt to hide my mixed up emotions. "I think perhaps you would have to know my father to understand what I mean."

"If there's one thing I understand it's controlling, overbearing fathers, sweetheart—trust me."

"Whenever he was disappointed or irritated by something my sisters did that displeased him… he would completely shut down, ignoring them for days… sometimes weeks at a time." I said softly, glancing up at him. "Your comment about your parents freezing you out reminded me of this—it made me realize that perhaps Dimitri might respond the same way. That is what scares me… the thought of Dimitri cutting ties with me if I fail to obey him and do what he wants."

"You said your sisters… I take it he didn't give you and your brother the cold shoulder?" He asked softly.

A dismissive noise escaped me before I could catch it. "I disappointed him every time I drew a breath, Dusha—he fluctuated between ignoring me and using me as a means to vent his anger. Believe me when I say I relished the times when he acted like I did not exist. It was different for the others—he was genuinely fond of Karo and Sonya… and proud of Dimitri for being a big, strong boy. Though at times… that pride was not enough to protect my brother from being beat up too." I sighed, swiping at my eyes before the hot tears gathering in them could fall. "My point is that if my brother shut me out like that… it would destroy me, I think."

"I'd say the chances of Dimitri pulling that crap are slim to none, Angel—for one thing… it's obvious he adores you. And having experienced that kind of treatment firsthand…" he shook his head. "He'll remember how much it hurts."

Something in the tone of his voice betrayed him—a hint of sadness that expressed that his parent's actions had cut him deeply, no matter how much he might refuse to acknowledge it. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to upset you—"

"Don't be—I'm not upset… not really. I've outgrown the need for Nathan's approval and acceptance, Angel. I figured out that my father thinks I'm a disappointment a long time ago—he wanted a carbon copy of himself and got an addled brained artist instead and he hated it. But I was lucky… Aunt Tati more than made up for what I lacked at home. She could be a real hard ass at times, but at least I knew she loved me unconditionally—that's all that matters in the end."

"I am sure that deep down your parents do too," I said, soothingly, "perhaps they just don't know how to show it, or—"

"Yeah right. If my mother loves me so much then why hasn't she had any contact with me since they took her away?" It was a mutter, almost under his breath; the haunted look that flickered across his face tore at my heart.

"Maybe they won't _let _her—did you consider that?" I asked softly.

"She's talked to my father and my Uncle, Vik—so obviously they aren't stopping her from making calls. I just don't rank high enough on her list of priorities to matter."

"Well… I'm not your mother, but I can tell you this—I wanted very much to see you while they had me locked up in that wretched little room. I was worried about how the situation would affect you," I offered.

He glanced over at me, his lips curving up in the faintest hint of a smile. "I never doubted that for a minute, Angel—you're a lot like Aunt Tati in that aspect."

"Tell me more about her, please," I coaxed—an attempt to steer the subject matter to far happier things. "I don't really know much about her at all—only what they teach us in school."

"She was an amazing woman." His lips twitched up in an impish grin. "She didn't hide her feelings the way most Royals do—if she didn't like a person she'd make sure they damned well knew it. Just ask Rose—they were constantly butting heads."

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't stop myself from making a face. "That's not what I meant at all, Dusha! Tell me something _ personal_ about her… you know… like a favorite memory."

He chuckled, dropping the butt of his cigarette and grounding it out with his foot. "That's a hard one… there's way too many to pick just one. It's kind of hard to narrow it down to just one thing, sweetheart—she tended to spoil me. Private art lessons, lavish birthday parties… Christmas—one year she even had a member of the Royal Guard dress up as Santa Claus and sneak into my room to surprise me. Hell… one time when I was really upset, she even knitted something for my imaginary friend to calm me down."

"_You_ had an imaginary friend?" My voice betrayed my surprise at the notion.

"Sure… don't most kids?"

"I guess I just assumed you'd have too many real friends to need a pretend one." I shrugged, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I suppose I thought it was something only lonely children did."

"I take it you didn't have one? Seeing as you have a big family—"

"Actually, I did. I was the youngest—when they went to school… I was left all alone." I smiled, remembering how I used to sneak away to play in the meadow—the only place that my imaginary playmate ever appeared. "She was very, very beautiful—she called me Katya. I remember she used to spend hours playing with my hair... it made me feel so special that someone older wanted to spend time doing such a thing—perhaps because Karolina and Sonya always acted like I was such a pest."

"Huh. Mine never touched me… never even spoke to me—in fact… once I woke up… I couldn't even remember what it looked like. I'd just know I'd had a weird dream and it involved another kid. I guess I was a little screwed up even back then—even my imaginary friend wasn't normal, like everyone else's."

I scowled, elbowing him in the side. "You're not 'screwed up'… you are creative. Artists are supposed to be a little unconventional, yes?"

"If unconventional is a polite way of saying a little touched in the head… yes." He smirked at the exasperated sigh I heaved. "Sorry Vik, facts are facts—you're involved with a nut job."

"No—I am involved with an extremely talented, kind man who is a bit… eclectic," I said firmly—shooting him a look that dared him to disagree.

"Eclectic… hmmm… I think I like that. Though I'm pretty sure that ninety nine point nine percent of the people at Court would say that's way too mild a term—"

"Viktoria Belikova?"

We both flinched in surprise—our heads jerking in the direction of the deep, rumbling voice; I flushed, embarrassed at being so wrapped up in our banter that I'd been caught completely off guard. "Yes—I am Viktoria."

"I apologize—I did not mean to startle you. I thought you might have gotten lost. Petrov has called the garage three times, wondering what the holdup is." The Guardian's eyes flicked between Adrian and me. "Everything alright?"

The wary expression on the man's face made me wonder if it was evident I'd been crying; thanks to Adrian's healing my eyes didn't feel tired and achy the way they usually did when I broke down, but that didn't necessarily mean they weren't puffy or red. "We—"

"It's my fault entirely." Adrian cut me off smoothly, flashing a charismatic smile. "Some of us aren't cut out for hiking through the wilderness."

"The road is just around the bend… just about five yards or so from here—I have a car waiting if you can make it that far," the Guardian shot back, his lips twitching.

"I think I can manage."

"Good. I'd hate to have to carry you—my back's been acting up." His eyes moved over to me, his gaze locking with mine. "Your brother is adjusting well to life at Court? No one is giving him trouble, I hope?"

The comment caught me off guard. "Not that I know of… why?"

"A few of the staff members here have made comments that weren't appropriate about his… mentoring Rose Hathaway." His jaw tightened—an almost imperceptible sign of tension that didn't escape my notice. "I set them straight about the issue. Dimitri was a good instructor—that is all that matters."

I didn't dare speculate on what the gossip might be—the last thing I needed to hear were lewd things about my brother's love life. "Thanks you… I am sure he would appreciate that Guardian…?"

"Pulzky—Thomas Pulzky." The man grinned, holding out his hand—jerking his head towards the trail behind him. "We should head for the car—I have patrol in less than an hour."

"Of course—I am sorry you had to come looking for us," I said as we fell into step behind him.

"Not a problem—it's nice to have an excuse to leave the guard booth for a while." He glanced over at me, his smile widening. "You might tell your brother that I still have the books he loaned me—I'll be sure to bring them the next time I visit court."

"I would be glad to, but you could always just give them to Guardian Petrov," I offered. "She has been storing his things and I am sure he will be making arrangements to have them shipped."

"Maybe he wants an excuse to escape for a few days." Adrian draped his arm around my shoulder again, pulling me a little closer to his side. "In case you haven't figured it out, there's not a lot of entertainment here, Vik."

"Actually, I'll take that suggestion—I would much rather spend my free time visiting my family than dealing with the hassles of Court," Pulzky said.

"Hassles?" I arched a brow, confused by the statement.

"I would be expected to join the patrol rotation during my stay—not exactly a relaxing way to spend my time off."

I frowned. "That hardly seems fair—"

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "The Guardians at Court are far more overworked than many of us—it gives them a chance to lessen their workload for a few days. I am simply selfish—I have three small sons I don't see often enough to suit me."

"Three! That must be quite a handful—my nephew runs us all ragged and there's only one of him."

"You aren't entirely wrong. They can be little devils—always getting into mischief. I think my sister will be extremely happy when they start school next year—it will give her a break from their antics." He chuckled, flashing a proud smile. "She was prepared to raise one—the fact they were triplets surprised everyone, especially my former charge. Hopefully for her sake her next guardian is less fertile than me."

I was shocked by his candor—Adrian, on the other hand, burst out laughing. "You don't seem too put out at being replaced."

Pulzky smirked. "Why should I be? Our arrangement was that she would give me a child for my service—quite a bargain that I got three for the price of one."

Their amusement was contagious; I smiled, shaking my head. "I would have to agree."

"In all honesty, I was glad to be reassigned here—my sister lives in a small commune about an hour from Missoula so I can drive there on my off days, and when the boys start school I will have the privilege of seeing them every day. That is far more than most Guardians are able to do." We'd reached the car—he opened the back door, gesturing us inside.

"You are a very lucky man," I said, climbing into the backseat—scooting over to make room for Adrian, "and they are lucky to have a father who wants to do his part in raising them."

"And an Auntie who loves them no matter how much mischief they create." He winked, climbing into the front seat.

Though Pulzky kept up a stream of good natured conversation as he drove us to the airstrip, the truth was that I barely heard a word he said; our conversation about his children had left me somewhat melancholic—I could not help but compare the vast difference between their upbringing and my own and being extremely envious of the differences. Their father was clearly devoted to them—never would they suffer cruel slaps or brutal beatings; like my sisters, they would be adored and loved by the man who'd sired them—they wouldn't be treated like whipping boys or called horrible, ugly things.

My silent withdrawal meant that Adrian was forced to carry the conversation for both of us; as if he sensed my inner turmoil, he automatically stepped up, filling the void left by my silence. He did an admirable job of intercepting and fielding any comments aimed my way—though he kept glancing over at me in a speculative sort of way. I shook my head, flicking my eyes towards the front seat—trying to indicate that it wasn't the right time for explanations, but unfortunately, he didn't take my silent hint.

"You okay?" He asked softly, reaching for my hand.

"I'm fine… just wondering if Dimitri has heard about everything that's happened. If so… I am sure he must be fretting something fierce."

He made a face, catching the lie in my words, but he was smart enough to realize that it wasn't meant for him—it was for the man in the front seat.

"Easy enough to fix that. Here." Pulzky shifted, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and holding it over his shoulder.

I made a face, hesitantly reaching out to take it from his hand. "It is a bit more complicated than just that… he isn't going to be pleased that Lord Ivashkov is here with me. Dimitri can be a little bit… overprotective, at times."

"As an older brother… I suppose I can understand that." Pulzky's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror—they were full of unasked questions; thankfully, he wisely chose to keep them to himself. "My advice? Go ahead and get it over with. Better that he have a few hours to come to terms with it before you land that to be surprised by it when you step off the plane, don't you think?"

"True… though he might also use that time to plot out how he's going dismantle me one piece at a time," Adrian pointed out.

"I seriously doubt that—Dimitri would never attack a Royal before witnesses," Pulzky countered, smirking. "He's far too controlled for that."

"You might be surprised," I muttered, thinking about my brother's behavior the night of Lissa's party. Mentally calculating the time difference, I punched in Dimitri's number—hoping he was already awake. Obviously I was wrong—he didn't pick up until the fifth ring, his voice thick with sleep.

"Belikov." Despite the fact I'd clearly woken him, he sounded completely professional; automatically my stomach clenched—I wasn't used to hearing him sound so formal.

"Dimitri?" I am sorry… I didn't mean to wake you—"

"Vika? Hold on."

I heard him murmur something—a moment later, he was back, sounding far more like the Dimitri I was used to. "Where are you?"

"I am still at Saint Vladimir's—no one called you?" Hope flared up inside me—I wanted him to learn the news from me first, not through idle gossip.

"No… why?" Confusion colored his words.

"Before I tell you… I want you to swear to me that you will be reasonable and listen without dramatics."

He was silent for a moment. "I am _never_ dramatic—"

"I mean it Dimitri—I have been through a lot at this horrible Academy and I need your support right now… not your anger."

"Viktoria—"

"You will swear it or I'm hanging up!"

He sighed. "Fine. I swear—"

"On your love for Roza," I amended.

"If you want me to listen calmly then you'd best spit it out little sister—the longer you stall the tenser I am becoming."

"I was detained by the Guardians—they locked me up for striking a Royal." I blurted it out, counting on the fact that it would shock him so much that the rest of my news would seem mild by comparison.

"I see… I assume you had a good reason for this, yes?" His voice was flat, holding a dangerous undertone—one that I prayed was directed at the staff of the Academy and not towards me.

"He was using compulsion to get a novice to do… indecent things, Mitya." I took a deep breath, glancing over at Adrian—he squeezed my hand supportively. "When I confronted him he said that no one could stop him. He's a Spirit user."

"How do you—"

"I know a Spirit user when I see one Dimitri Belikov—I've spent a lot of time with Oksa when I visit home."

"Ahhh… of course. I'm sorry." He sighed. "We need to tell Lissa immediately—"

"She knows… it's really all too complicated to get into now and I don't want to take advantage of Guardian Pulzky's generous offer to use his phone—"

"I was wondering who's number this was—"

"I had to borrow it—Guardian Amanar needed mine to take photographs of the body—" As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I winced, wanting them back.

"_What_ body?"

"Remember your promise, Dimitri—"

"Viktoria—"

"The Moroi student who went missing the night of the attack. I… um… sort of accidentally found her body." I said softly.

"The… attack…" He sounded strange—almost haunted; my heart twisted in my chest as I mentally cursed my idiotic slip up. "Where was it, Vika?"

"In the cave," I whispered.

"You didn't… please, tell me you didn't—" His voice _trembled_—I heard a soft sort of thud, followed by a broken moan.

"Dimitri? Dimitri! Talk to me—"

"What the hell did you say to him?" Roza's shout was so loud that I had to move the phone away from my ear—her voice full of fire and brimstone.

"We went to the cave, Roza," I said, fighting to speak around the lump that was forming in my throat. "I didn't intend to mention it—it slipped out. Please tell him—"

"I'm not telling him anything," she hissed, "you've already done enough fucking damage for one day!"

"That's not fair, Roza! I… hello?" Scowling, I held the phone away from my ear again—my eyes flicking from the screen to Adrian's face. "She hung up on me!"

"Should I fake being surprised? Come on Vik—this is Rose we're talking about. When it comes to your brother, she's more protective than one of Alto's Grizzly bears."

"I was going to tell him you were here. I mean… not about the Johnson thing—just that you're on campus. Before he hears it second hand and starts assuming the worst."

"Too late now—I doubt she'll let him near the phone again anytime soon," he muttered, taking it out of my hand and leaning over the seat to pass it back to Guardian Pulzky.

"I wouldn't worry too much about any of the staff telling him, Novice Belikova." He glanced back at me, flashing a reassuring smile. "He hasn't really kept in touch with anyone other than Petrov—and even if he had… your brother was an intensely private man when he was here. I can't think of anyone who would feel comfortable calling him about such a thing."

"Even you?" I asked, eyeing him—not bothering to attempt to disguise the suspicion in my voice.

"It's not my business," he said, bluntly. "You aren't a student here—your personal life and acquaintances are no concern of mine."

"Truth," Adrian whispered, his eyes flicking from the front seat to me. "He means it."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." Pulzky sounded put out at the implication he might lie.

"Sorry, I needed to make sure before I attempted to distract her from fretting over her giant brother." Adrian grinned, sliding his arm around my shoulders—tugging me closer across the bench seat. "I'd suggest keeping your eyes on the road Pulzky… if you catch my drift."

I blushed at the guardian's appreciative chuckle. "Certainly, Lord Ivashkov… but I'd suggest you make it quick if you don't want an audience—we're almost there."

"Some things," Adrian said, smiling as he tilted my chin up, "can't be rushed, man."

He closed the distance between our lips with a torturous slowness that left me trembling—then finally, his lips were on mine and it was completely impossible for me to think about anything at all other than the thrilling tingle that raced throughout my body.

When it comes to distraction techniques, the simplest things are the ones that work the best—or perhaps it's just that Adrian's kisses have a magic all their own; in the end, I can say one thing with definite surety—the mechanics behind the reason didn't matter one bit. The only thing I cared about was the Moroi holding me in his arms.

Everything else... could wait.


End file.
